It's time for a few thoughts from the shortest member of our family... She plays with squeaky toys, sleeps on top of the couch cushions, thinks she's a human, and loves us right back (We're so glad...)! So, without further ado, here is her blogging debut. No doubt she has a very unique perspective on our home. After all, she IS about foot tall! Take it away, Abbie...Abbie here... I've decided that I LOVE Xanax. Really and truly. Since my family moved to Lincoln, I've been tormented off and on by planes, trains, and yes... automobiles. Daddy and Mommy found the greatest little place for us to call home out here for awhile. But to the North (yes, dogs can tell direction) there is the Lincoln airport and Airforce airfield, and the fly-bys are NOT my fave. Then to the South, there is the biggest train junction in the city. For some odd reason, they decide during the Spring and Fall (yes, dogs can tell the seasons) to load empty rail cars in the middle of the night and the resulting CRASH's and BOOM's make me jump out of my skin! THEN, there are the pretty spectacular thunderstorms out here in 'Braska and the Midwest. Let's just say that I can hear it coming before the rest of the family can and I continue to shake and tremble uncontrollably for hours afterward. I'm a regular Canine Barometer. Dad will look at me, sleeping on top of the couch cushion, not a CARE in the world... Then I'm shaking like a leaf and looking outside at the sunshine. Then I hear him say, "...Check out Abbie. Must be storm coming." I do what I can to help out.
This brings me full circle to my original statement. I loooooooooooooove Xanax! My doc has prescribed plenty of those cute yellow pills so that Daddy and Mommy can actually get some SLEEP when it's Spring and Fall, and fly-by time, and when there's a storm... You get the idea. The funny thing is how they try to disguise the fact that they're getting me high. They take the pills and cover them with this deliciousness called a Pill Pocket. And then they tell me that I can have a treat. Like I don't know what's in there and I didn't just sit and watch them prepare the thing!!! Puh and Leaze!!@! But they're yummy so I take it and act like I don't know what just happened. Then the world gets kind of colorful and I sleep for awhile. Before I know it, it's morning and I'm doing great.
But this leads me to an interesting list. I'd like to call this:
WHAT THEY SAY and WHAT I ACTUALLY HEAR
- "Abbie, treat!" ----------> "Abbie, Come take your disguised medicine and/ or actual treat!"
- "Abbie, no bites..." -------> "Abbie, please stop chewing on Noah's ears and toes."
- "Abbie, outside go potty." -------> Yeah, this one cracks me up. Usually a pajama-clad parent will come and pick me up off the couch between 9 and 11:00pm, take me outside to a patch of grass and expect me to... you know. I'm fully aware that this is the last time I will see said grass until approximately 7 or 8:00am the next morning.
- "Abbie's food." ----------> "Abbie, quit sitting under Noah's chair waiting to catch any escaped Lucky Charms marshmallows and go eat your own food."
- "Abbie, Mama touch." --------> "Abbie, don't be alarmed but I'm going to pet you or scratch your ears or pick at your face or even pick you up and snuggle with you against your will." (When I hear this, I just freeze in place and hope for the best. Grandpa Smith thinks this one is hilarious...)
- "Abbie, Good girl." ----------> "Abbie, you're the best sweetest most adorable and amazingly smart little girl ever. We love you. You are in our will. Aunt Heather wants to take you home. Noah will want you to sleep with him on his bed soon. Stay this young forever. Here, have some more Xanax..."
That's it for Abbie Mae's dish for now. I'm a budding journalist, so you'll see me again soon. I'm hoping for a monthly column spot! Wait...
I think someone is opening some cheese.... Was I saying something?
