Raising the Bar of Badness

Luna is 7 months old now. I can hardly believe it! What is almost as amazing as her age milestone is the unparalleled path of destruction she has managed to leave in her wake. Just when I think she is about to even keel on the havoc she kicks the devastation up a notch. Take her stunt this Saturday when she yet again raised the bar.

Allow me to set the stage. It was a beautiful, quintessential fall morning. A tad bit crisp but lovely nonetheless. I had been sitting outside barefoot, drinking hot tea on the deck, listening to my favorite Simon and Garfunkel Pandora channel watching the pointer sisters roll each other through bushes and hunt moles. Minus the tag team dog wrestling it was a pretty relaxing start to the day. The phone rang so I stepped inside for 5 minutes. FIVE FRIGGIN MINUTES people and returned to find the following, which isn't all that bad considering and its a rather typical offense for Ms. Luna Lu.

This was the replacement mat to the last one she destroyed and ran away with. I'm about to power drill the next one to the deck. I'm not loosing this battle. Ohhhh no.

The day I came out and the old mat was finally no more.

As an aside it would have been bitchin if I said MARCO and the mat said POLO.

Things are always so much cooler in my head. 

I'd also like to point out she pooped on the front welcome mat one time in a rainstorm. Cause I guess she thought crapping on the front porch was a suitable alternative to fertilizing the lawn. I have no idea what her issue is other than she must be spawned from Satan. But I digress. Anyway, after gathering up my mat remnants and disposing of them in the trash I gave her the stink eye and went inside to use the bathroom and wash my hands. FIVE FRIGGIN MINUTES later I come back and can't find her. Meanwhile Cleo is sound asleep in a sunbeam.

So I start to call her. No response. I run around the house and don't see her. I call her again and nothing. I go out to the wood pile and then I hear it. High pitched dog squealing which if your anything like me it strikes fear into my heart. I ran back to the house in a panic. I run up on the deck just to hear it again. It's coming from below my feet. Oh yea....imagine that. Some jerk puppy has managed to climb 20 feet under the deck to the farthest spot from the opening and is now stuck. And I don't mean like she'll come out when she's ready....like she's stuck stuck. Like she needs assistance.

Bet I'd be a kick ass spelunker....just sayin

Forty minutes and two panicked phone calls later I'm flash light in hand crawling under the deck to retrieve Luna(tic). Luckily for me and you for picture sake, my sister in-law Rebecca just happened to be driving by the exit for my town and came over for what I thought was support in case I got stuck during the rescue. But in reality it turned into well deserved heckling and picturing taking. Thankfully I find the humor in and actually respect being kicked while down. I would have done the same for her. It took three tries but on the final entry I managed to ignore the thoughts of all the snakes that I've seen retreat under the deck, all the cobwebs that were in my face and hair and the fact that it was such a tight squeeze at times I had no idea if I could get back out. Good thing I'm not overly claustrophobic. But I eventually reached her, unhooked her, slid her on her side and slowly shimmied out while dragging her 50 pound frame out by her front legs.

The best way to achieve an authentic 80's hair style?? Crawl under a deck.

I'd like to point out that halfway back she could have easily army crawled with me but actually preferred being drug. Why? Cause she's a jerk. Upon exiting the deck she dove onto and knocked my sister in-law down and the proceeded to zoom around the yard in victory laps. Thirty seconds after being freed it was like nothing ever happened to her and I stumbled into the house to find some advil (that's a lie...it was totally wine). Moral of the story?? Buy a house cat, or a guinea pig or get a gold fish named Sally Swims Alot since these creatures don't care a friggin thing about killing moles under the deck.

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