Thursday, November 29, 2007

Sunday night, 'bout 11:45pm, my heterosexual lifemate returned from the East Coast. I had been waiting all night for her to come home. She'd been gone for a week. Usually, I greatly enjoy the first few days she is out of the house. Then it's too quiet, and plus also, the dogs don't ever want to talk about their day.

Our heater was on the fritz, so I was on the couch, snuggled under a wooly blanket, and waiting. When Smang came home, she put her luggage down, and spent some time snuggling with Jelly and The Snooch (her cats). We put the dogs outside. She gave me my present from the NJMomma.

We were about to settle in, and do the things we do (I believe we were going to watch Ratatouille). I said, "let the dogs in, so we won't have to get up."

Smang went to the back door, and let Brownie in. She called for Lucy. Nothing. Goddamn her! Smang shook the box of cookies. Lucy came running. She bounded up the backyard, straight into the house, and *PTOOEY*, Lucy spit something out at Smang's feet.

And with that, the wheels came off. Smang started screaming. I mean scuh-reaming! Now, in our household, Smang gets the dude chores. You know, killing of bugs, snakes and assorted creepy crawlies, lawn work, house maintenance...dude chores. So, when she started screaming, I had NO interest in seeing what was causing that reaction. I stayed put. When I didn't move, she started screaming more urgently.


I got up from the couch, and went over to the kitchen. Belly up, right next to the door, was the biggest damn dead frog I have ever seen. It was massive. And very dead. Jesus, the smell. Oh my god, and it had some ribs exposed. DEAD FROG! I gagged. Smang gagged.

I slammed the back door shut, and started thinking.

"Call The Nuge!", Smang pleaded. No. The time it will take for her to get here is longer than the time I am willing to spend with Dead Frog in the house. Think. Think. Think.

OK! Give me a box. I'll put the box over Dead Frog, conceal him safely there within, put the box in the outside trash and put the outside trash on the curb. OK! OK! Breathe!

We're also trying to keep the dogs away from the object which is clearly exciting. It is a smelly Dead Frog, and it has both Smang and I riled up, so the bitches were quite riled up, too.

I empty the box closest to me. I try to lean in as close to the thing as possible, while staying as far away from it as I can. Picture that for a second. I was trying to extend my arm towards Dead Frog, while simultaneously moving my body away from it.

Box over the frog, all frog limbs secured, OK! We decided the best course of action was to secure something beneath the box, flip everything over, and 1,2,6, we'll be rolling.

US Weekly gets nominated for Dead Frog coffin detail. Sorry, Janice Min. I go to slip it under the box, and meet frog resistance. GAH!

More screaming, this time, from me. Smang jumps in. US Weekly slides under the box. *shudder* I decide that it will not be strong enough to secure the Dead Frog, and ask for the dustpan.

I get the Dead Frog in the dustpan, Smang opens the front door, and you'd think that'd be it.

Except that we were both already freaked out, so we weren't paying close attention. Then, one of Dead Frog's little Dead Frog Legs flopped out of the dustpan. More screaming. Front door wide open. One dog who loves to run. Did I mention that it'd been raining for three days?

Brownie takes off. SON OF A BITCH! I finish disposing of the Dead Frog, tell Smang to go grab the box of cookies, and in my slippers, take off to catch her. I know not to run, because then it's a game of chase, and she won't stop running. I also don't want to lose sight of Brownie and have her head for Northwest Highway. Smang has no shoes on, only socks. It's not actually raining at that moment, but everything is wet.

Brownie pauses in a yard, sniffing something. I head for her, and say her name. She sniffs a little more urgently, and then bolts. She heads past Smang, who screams her name. Did I mention that by now, it is past midnight. I assume most of our neighbors had been asleep. Back to work on a Monday morning, and all that.

Smang tells me she has no shoes. Then she says, "catch her!", and as she said it, her voice broke. It almost killed me. I tell Smang to give me two cookies from the box, and go get us some shoes. As I say this, Brownie runs so close to me that my sweatshirt ripples. She is running so fast.

I take the cookies, Smang heads for the house. I walk over to the yard where, once again, Brownie has paused to sniff the earth. I squat down, hold out my arm, and call her name. When she looks at me, I tell her, "Come get this cookie!" She saunters over, I grab her collar, and she takes the cookie from me. Her tail is wagging hard. She's having a ball.

We walk towards the house, Smang comes running out holding some shoes, and I yell "I got her!" Our poor neighbors.

And then I came inside, and died.

We finally got around to watching Ratatouille last night.