My Mom Make Me Nuts

Sadly, My Mom has many issues, like mud or when dog hair gets on her pants or bedding. Today I’m addressing the mud events. Cooking & laundry are NOT the way Mom enjoys spending her time. I’m a bit puzzled by all the angst she goes thru on laundry day. As you are aware, we live in a small camper, so the local laundromat is a regular stomping ground. Fortunately, our laundromat is clean & all machines work. Mom can load all her clothes into a washer or 2 & my bedding goes in another. It takes about 1.5 hours of water sloshing & thumping to change dirty yuck cloth into aww that smells good wearable & sleepable material. Combining our laundry would simplify, but Just the thought of mixing our laundry gives Mom heart palpitations.

She even dries our stuff separately (Eye roll).

Yesterday was laundry day. Today was warm & wet in Minnesota, up to 50 degrees. Yippee! Mom let me out this peaceful morning on the farm encased by heavy grey fog to do my business & see what’s-what. Me & everything else in the cottage all tidally clean when I left. Coming back with my four paws covered in mud wasn’t my best decision. Stepping all over the carpet & my nice clean bed was even a worse one. My Mama came unglued. Huffing & puffing, but the cottage didn’t shake. If we’d been in the camper, it woulda looked like the poor thing had epilepsy. Mom vacuumed best she could, muttering the entire time.

Is this the 1st time I did a terrible mud thing? Nope.

Weeks ago, after a rain, mom met me at the end of our mile-long dirt road. I was closer than she anticipated, the driver’s door was open, but Mom hadn’t yet opened the back door. Ya know, I didn’t even break stride; I jumped in the auto on Mom’s white leather upholstery seat with all four mud-caked paws. Mom started, squawking, which was such a startle that I jumped onto the passenger front seat, then I hastily headed to the back seat, ran across the back seat a few times before I jumped back in the front & out the door. My poor Mama was beside herself as she had just scrubbed the entire auto & washed the enormous back seat heavy-duty seat protector the previous day.

With tears in her eyes, she grabbed a towel to clean off her car seat; she didn’t want to go to work with mud butt.

*** Wait a minute, Mom is exaggerating! No way was I That dirty! ***

A week later, Mom decided to wash all her outdoor winter wear. New snow-covered the mud & the cold stiffened everything up. Again, we are at the end of our long driveway; Mom had the backdoor open for me & noticed I had a few large burs on my butt as I jumped in. She grabbed them off with her right cloth glove. Then she pulled the burs off her gloved right hand with her left gloved hand, even though that didn’t go so well. She tried it a few more times. By now, Mom is in extreme frustration, so she tried to shake the burr off…Yup, her clean glove sailed off her hand & was now laying in a mud puddle, the bur still attached. She was so mad I’m surprised she didn’t run the glove & bur over with her car tire a few times. She was on her way to the office, so I don’t think she had time.

It’s a good thing My Mama isn’t a practicing Catholic. Her use of naughty words would cause her to either spend hours doing priest time in the confessional, or she’d be spending her time saying strings of Hail Mary’s, Our Fathers & many Act of Contritions. Mom wouldn’t have any time left to pet or play with me; that would be devastating for both of us; at least, I hope Mom would be devastated!

As a dog, I’m curious … who decided which words are bad & which are good? If a word releases the pressure, so My Mama’s head doesn’t explode, wouldn’t that be a good word? I’m totally thankful a dog’s vocabulary is basic. Come, sit, stay & fetch.

You’re probably curious about what I do when Mom has a hissy fit. I get as far away from her as possible, shrink as much as my massive muscles will allow & I do not make a peep; if the aftereffects of not breathing weren’t so permanent, I’d stop doing that also.

When Mom’s bugged-out eyes settle back into her head, her nostrils quit flaring, & her face color normalizes, I once again become her playful, loving companion.

I have a confession about my vocabulary. Please read all about it in my next blog, followed by the challenges of packing to live on the road for four months, followed by the similarities of dog collars & bras.

Thanks for reading!

Luv, Otis

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