The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

August was Thatcher's birth month. He's 2 years old... so according to this chart I found, I guess in dog years that makes him... 24years old. One year younger than me... and still acts like a small child. What is it they say about boys maturing slower than girls?! That chart must be wrong. Anyway, back to Thatcher's birthday. We got him a big rawhide bone for his birthday... you know, the ones that are knotted at the ends. Anyway, I went from the 2nd floor of our house down to the first floor to get something. Thatcher was standing at the 2nd floor as I was making the descent and all of the sudden I hear some clunking noises and turn around and his bone was coming down the stairs after me. I jumped out the way just as the bone hit the wall with a loud THUD! It MUST have been an accident... Thatcher would NEVER throw his bone down the stairs at me and try to make me fall... I love him too much for him to do that! So I go back upstairs after getting what I needed from the 1st floor. A while later I had to put the item back downstairs. I start my descent down the stairs and all of the sudden I heard the same old clunking noise and turn around just in time to see Thatcher standing there with a crazy look in his eye... almost like he was waiting for the bone to hit me and knock me the rest of the way down the stairs! What an evil evil little man he is.... and by man I mean dog! He totally had it out for me and he got caught... not once, but twice! He's malicious I tell you!

Ok, as promised in the last post, we shall discuss all of the names of Thatcher.

1. Thatcher Dean - that's his first and middle name, reserved for when he's in trouble
2. Thatchy - an affectionate name
3. Thatchio - random name, usually chanted like Rufio from the movie Hook (Thatchio, Thatchio, Thatch-i-oooooo)
4. Snoutly McGee - used when he's beginning his snouting
5. Snout Monster - used when he's been snouting a little too long
6. Thatcharola - random name, usually sung to the Rice-a-Roni commercial tune (Thatch-a-rola, the San Francisco treat)
7. Cutie Face - always said in a super high pitched voice using baby talk
8. Thatcharoo - random name
9. Thatch - most common nickname other than Thatchy, used when I'm too lazy to say his full name
10. Mama's Baby - used when I baby talk him (also the name of a future racing horse I will [never] own... I can hear the announcer now, "Aaaaaaand Death's Door Keeper is in the lead with at least 5 strides between him and... OHHH MYYYYY GOSH!! Mama's Baby has appeared from thin air and overtaken 10 other competitors to take the lead and WIN WIN WIN!!! Dave, have you ever seen anything like this!? What an upset Mama's Baby has caused here today!"

Ok, enough with the names... the list could go on FOR-EV-ER (Sandlot, anyone!?)! Let's talk about Thatchy and his bad streak (which happens to be 10 miles wide). Day before yesterday I washed some work trousers, but in order to do so I had to empty all of the three thousand pockets that the Army put on them. So I empty EVERY. LAST. ONE. and place all my pocket goodies in a pile by my nightstand. I put the clothes in the wash and take some time to work on craft projects (that are super top secret). For those of you who don't know... crafting can work up quite a sweat! So I went downstairs to get a glass of water. I'm walking down the stairs, caught in my dream world as I'm imagining what other kind of creative things I can make, then all of the sudden... I see it!! Well, well, well. What do we have here?! The Snout has struck again!
I started out by finding something that was white cotton at the base of the stairs... walk a little further, yellow and white shreds of something... a little further a braided string (I'm sure all the ladies can see right where this is going)... a little further i find a blue plastic applicator and... dun dun dun!!!! the rest of what was once an unused tampon.
Then I see the Snouty culprit standing there with a new unused tampon that's still in the wrapper and it's dangling from his mouth. I glance at the clock on the oven and it just so happened to read... HIGH NOON!! (insert wild west showdown music here) It was as if we'd been plucked from the final showdown scene in The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.
Of course, I'm "The Good" - Blondie (how appropriate), Thatcher is "The Ugly" - Tuco (some would say this is equally appropriate), and... well I don't know who "The Bad" is because nobody ever dies in our standoffs! However, unlike the movie ending where Tuco and Blondie each get equal parts of gold... I always win. That's the way it goes when you're the mama! DUH! We're always have some standoff or another. Yesterday it was over some little flowers I was using for a project in what we affectionately call "The Crap Room" where I do all of my craft projects. I usually never let The Snout in the crap room for that very reason. But yesterday he was being exceptionally sweet so I let him lay at my feet as I was ironing a piece of fabric to be sewn. Here I was, ironing away and singing to my Pandora playlist when I looked down... it must have been about 6 or 7 songs after Snouts original entry and lounging and I noticed that he was no longer lying under the ironing board. Uh Oh! I leave the room, calling for him, "Ohhhh Thaaaaaatcher. Wheeeeerrrre aaaaaarrrre yooooou?!" kinda in a creepy kinda old lady voice! No traces of him upstairs so I head down to the 2nd level where I found my little craft flowers strewn all in a lovely little trail... It was like a romantic movie with the rose petals leading up to the love of your life lying in bed waiting with some chocolate covered strawberries... but no. All that was at the end of my flower trail was a farting dog who had the "I'm in trouble" look written ALL over his face. I couldn't help but laugh, which totally confused him because then I spanked his bottom a few times and told him "NO NO!" No wonder he's so strange and confused.

*The "I'm in trouble" look he often wears*



Until next time. Enjoy!

Pup-tenting

So one of my favorite times is when I get off work and get to come home to an excited little boy and then snuggle him. Thatcher is a pretty good snuggler! It's right up there with chocolate candy... yeah, it's THAT good. Thatchy usually likes me to be big spoon, but on some rare occasions he let's me be little spoon and he drapes his arm aver my neck while I'm sleeping. I love it! Well... love is a strong word. Occasionally when it's my turn to be little spoon it is short lived because I get tired of my back getting kicked... it's like he's trying without success to kickstart a motorcycle... he's relentless. But something extra special happened last week! We had our heads under the covers like usual since I work night shift and the blackout curtains are more like dimmers on the windows.... and I had beans in my burrito at work... and who knows what Thatcher ate (I'm sure you can see where this story is going)... let me just say it... we ended up pup-tenting each other! LOL. We giggled for at least 5 minutes... ok well, I giggled, Thatcher just laid there pretending that he didn't know he tooted (yeah right, Thatch, nobody falls for that one anymore).

Today, Thatch was snouting around like he was searching for something. I asked him, "Are you looking for THIIIIS!?" as I was making kissy faces at him... he snorted, turned his nose up at me and walked away! Unappreciative brat!! Most dogs LOVE to give kisses... as many as they can lay on ya... but not Thatcher. He's very selective about who he kisses. I guess I don't hafta worry about him being a prostitot (for all of you who don't know... that's a baby prostitute)!

A few days ago Thatcher wanted to play "exterminator" so we did. There was a cricket that was between the couch and the table. Thatch wanted desperately to get it but he couldn't fit between the couch and the table... so me being the admiring mama that I am... I moved the couch out from the wall so he could play his game. He chased the poor cricket for a while until he "accidentally" popped one of its back legs off and it couldn't escape anymore. I had to put it outside so it could have a peaceful death. That's what Thatcher does... he doesn't like to eat them... just plays catch with them and chases them until he gets tired and then he tramples them with his feet. Really, he's a precious angel.

When I'm home from work Thatch and I do pretty much everything together. After checking the mail, which is like a block away, we came back to work on this blog and here's how Thatch contributed...

Occasionally he would have a muscle spasm and kick me or shake the laptop and make me have a spelling error. Thanks for the help Thatchy. One day we will discuss all of Thatcher's nicknames... that's a blog all in itself.

I wish I could just spend all my days with Thatcher... sometimes. Sometimes I need a break from him because he's just as bad as he is cute! One of the girls at work gives me a hard time because I'm always telling her how rotten Thatch is and she tells me "surely you're over exaggerating!" Oh honey, I wish I were. I shouldn't have spoiled him as much as I did because now he thinks that's the way it should be and when I tell him "NO" he throws a tantrum. Good God, what have I done! I guess this is a practice round for future children. No means no! How can you resist this cute face though!?



Thatch wanted to type something but he forgot to get his nails trimmed when he was getting a manicure... so he can't type. So, until next time.

"Cherries are for mamas..."

Ok lovely people. So here is a much needed update. I put Thatcher in charge of the blog and we see how well THAT worked out!

Thatcher somehow got this idea in his head that if he fake sneezes on your food that you won't want to eat it and you'll give it to him. Well, apparently when you become a parent (to a fur kid or a skin kid) it doesn't matter and all cleanliness issues go out the window. I eat stuff he fake sneezes on all the time. Don't judge me!

So there I was... eating some cherries that I had just washed and Thatcher was bugging me nonstop for one. He tried his sneezing trick. HA! PLEASE! You think that a snotty sneeze can separate me from some summer cherries?! I don't think so friend. He doesn't even know what cherries are... BUT I'm less likely to give him anything since yesterday he begged and begged and begged for a piece of my twizzler (which I'm sure he thought was a pupparoni) so I tore a piece off and gave it to him. He sniffed it and then let it soak in his mouth until it was gooey and then left it there only to beg for more even though he wouldn't eat it! I picked up the gooey red mess and tossed it in the trash (after dropping it twice). Thanks Thatchey.

Sooooooo, needless to say, when he started asking for cherries I had to come up with some clever excuse why he couldn't have any. I could have said anything... ANYTHING!! How about this... "No Thatcher. Cherries have pits in them and you won't spit it out and then you'll choke and die because I'm a bad mommy and don't know mouth to snout CPR." Or how about this one... " No Thatcher. Cherries are healthy for you and we all know you don't like anything healthy!" I mean, for Pete's sake... the kid eats toilet paper and cotton balls when he gets a chance to pillage the trash. BUT NOOOOOO I went with yelling this instead... "YOU CAN'T HAVE ANY CHERRIES BECAUSE THEY'RE FOR MAMAS ONLY AND YOU WON'T EVER BE A MAMA BECAUSE YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A VAGINA!!!" He walked away to play with one of his toys... SWEET VICTORY IS MINE AT LAST!!! This excuse seemed to satisfy him so I think I'll try it with other things when the occasion presents itself... oh and it WILL present itself!

Well, my editor was looking over my shoulder snorting approval in my ear, but now he's laying with his snout draped across the keyboard so I guess that means he's ready for bed and this is a wrap!

*This is an old photo... BUT It's still past some one's bed time!*



Until next time y'all!

Divo

First off... we'll apologize for the long pause between posts. It's all Thatcher's fault and that's all there is to say about that (that's my failsafe excuse).

Thatcher is now in his teenage years and has the attitude to prove it. He's become quite the little diva (since he's a boy would it be divo? Whatever.)

A couple of weeks ago I went to the commissary and bought a few items and I thought, "Oh... I better get Thatch some treats, he's almost out." Now, usually he eats puparoni treats, but this time I decided to get puparoni and ALSO get the doggy bacon strips. Let's just say that didn't go over too well. I fed him one bacon strip and he ate it because he thought it came from the puparoni bag... then i tried to feed him another one and the little brat turned his nose up at it, snorted, and walked off! Umm, excuse me!!! When you start paying the grocery bills THEN you can be picky, Thatcher.

Isn't is strange how over time you morph into your parents... it's almost a smooth transition and before you know it the transition is near completion and you're deciding it's appropriate to say things like, "Oh, you wanna cry?! I'll give you something to cry about!" ... yeah, I've said that to Thatcher on more than one occasion... so what!? Is this a foreshadowing of my "real" parenting abilities when I have children without fur?! Dear Jesus... help me!


And speaking of teenage years... does anybody remember when you were a teenager and it became totally unacceptable for your parents to pick out your school clothes anymore. Yeah, well... I think we've reached that point. This photo is the last one taken of Thatch in his cute little sweater and I can only think of 2 reasons... 1)He purposefully ate too much so he outgrew it, and 2)He thinks it looks like a baby gap sweater (which, to be fair, it kinda does). To be totally fair, I didn't even pick this sweater out, Thatcher's mimi did. So I guess it's not just clothes our parents picked out, but clothes our grandparents picked out as well. Sorry for being such a terror mom!




Thatcher has been hurt recently and I'm not quite sure how it happened... but everytime he tries to jump on the bed (which he LOVES to do) he yelps in pain (mama's poor angel). Maybe he pulled a chest muscle going up and down the stairs (he is pretty buff now... time to lay off the 'roids honey). :/ Oh... P.S. I just found out last night that he's been faking it the last few days. Last night he thought I was asleep in the bed and he wanted to play so he just jumped up on the bed (yelp free) and started romping around and throwing my covers off. HAHA... caught red handed once again. He's not as sly as he likes to think he is.


Thatch fancies himself as a gardener and just adores helping me re-pot the tree in the informal dining room. He also trims all the grass with his mouth and "waters" EVERY tree and or pole in the neighborhood. He does have his favorite pole though on the opposite side of the neighborhood and when he's behaving badly on the leash I'm a mean mama and I forbid him to pee on his favorite pole... I mean "water" it... Anyway, our little old neighbor lady is the most precious thing ever. She bought some dog treats at Wal-Mart for Thatcher because she always sees him out in the yard playing (her words, not mine). Anyway, remember the part about Thatcher being a treat snob?? Well I was kinda horrified at the thought of her giving him a treat and him turning his nose up at it and walking off... wouldn't that be mortifying as a parent... to witness your child being a huge brat to someone who is attempting an act of random kindness!? Well, to my relief, Thatch thought it was a payment for something so I guess the only thing he could think of getting paid for from our neighbor would be for tearing up her grass with his talons! So she gives him one treat and he takes it and darts off... grass flying everywhere... it actually reminded me from a scene from Edward Scissor Hands. Anyway, back to reality, She gives Thatch the 2nd treat (and he hadn't even eaten the first) and he drops them on the ground and sits on them like any good mother hen would do. Then he jumps around some more (to demonstrate his appreciation towards her) and then he finally lays in the grass and eats the treats.... whooo a sigh of relief for him not being a DVIA for once!!!
*Look at the guilty look on his face!*


Thatch got a few new toy and one of them is this Alligator with like 1000 squeaky things in it. He is totally jealous that his new baby gator had perfectly straight teeth so you can see the results of that meet up... And this was just the start of it. Now his gator has absolutely no teeth and he needs a few surgeries on his torso and some reconstructive facial surgery wouldn't hurt either. :(
*It used to have teeth on top AND bottom...*



Thatch can't seem to make any friends in the neighborhood because A)He's the bully, or B)He's being bullied. Our neighbors a few houses down have the cutest little white dog and it always wants to run up to Thatchy and play, but of course, Thatch has to act like a psycho first... but believe it or not, the little white dog will buck up and dart at Thatch and zigzag back and forth and then he runs to his dads arms for safety! Haha it's so funny to watch because then Thatcher thinks it's a game and tries to do it back but he just looks half crazy. BUT he did meet his first baby... up close and personal with Amelia Lehman! He was sooooo intrigued by her and her tiny movements. We separated them with the baby gate but Thatch wouldn't stop resting his big fat head on the gate and just staring at Amelia, trying to figure out exactly what she was! Too cute.




Oh, did I forget to mention that Thatcher carries his blankie EVERY WHERE. His new nickname shall be Linus Van Pelt! He also personalized it by adding a few signature marks... AKA holes and shreds throughout. See Thatcher, this is why we can't have anything nice! Oh, speaking of having nice things... I bought these fairly expensive blackout curtains (since I work night shift) and they're "spot clean only" so don'tcha know i just LOVED finding dried snout juice all over my new black curtains from where SOME ONE was attempting to look out the window!? Thatch knows just how to push my buttons. Guess the snout juice will hafta stay for a while because I don't think his window infatuation is over quite yet.

And while we're talking about ruining nice things... let's talk about Thatcher's knack for picking out my most expensive undies from the dirty clothes basket and making them look like dumpster drawers. Ohhhhhh noooo... God forbid he go for any of the $5/8pair Wal-mart granny panties... he goes straight for the Victoria's Secret panties that are $5/Pair. Little bastard. Oops... that last comment slipped out... but when I realized last night that I was unknowingly wearing a pair that had the slightest "Thatcher hand-crafted" or in this case "snout-crafted" defect I was totally pissed! Count another pair for the trashcan. I guess it went unnoticed because It was a tiny tear where the seam is... and it only grew the more I moved around throughout the night. Rats. Below is a photo of Thatcher getting punished for attempting to help "sort laundry" from the basket.
*Notice him pretending he can't hear me. Monster.*




About a month ago I was working on a few sewing projects and Thatchey decided he wanted to try his hand (paw, whatever) at sewing... Really all he ended up doing was eating all the forgotten thread ends that had been snipped away and had fallen to the floor. Thanks ThatchVacuum.
*If you look closely you can see a thread hanging from his mouth. Guilty as charged!*


Hahahaha I almost forgot about this one morning when Thatcher wanted to wake me up and i guess I wasn't responding to his usual whining and putting his snout in my hand so he decided to get right up next to my face and steal all my air! Imagine my surprise when I woke up feeling like I was drowning and couldn't breath... then I see the culprit wagging his nubbin, happy to see my eyes open. I had to laugh because then he starts doing log jumps over me while i'm still trying to shake off the sleep. Somebody needs to teach this kid some morning time manners!

At least he's cute... or, that's what I keep telling myself anyway.


Until next time. :)