Monday 'Til Midnight

I’ve heard all the admonitions about hating Mondays—that’s a seventh of your week; thank God it’s Monday, yada, yada, yada. But these people must be writing Chicken Soup for the Soul entries and sipping mint juleps all day. Mondays stink and I try to lay low and survive the 24 hours until Tuesday. I could try going to bed early but since I’m a night person, I’d just be spending the time staring at the ceiling.

Jack calls and tells me that he woke up with a black eye. Not guilty! What the heck! We haven’t figured that one out yet, but even though I’m up way after he goes to bed, beating the sleeping isn’t one of my activities. I’m too busy doing things like chasing bullfrogs.

Yes, every night between midnight and 1 a. m. the dogs and I go out to the pool to remove a giant frog from his nightly swim. Bear especially loves to run around the pool chasing the frog’s underwater path and usually blocking my attempts to catch him in my net. The frog seems to enjoy the whole thing. In fact, if he isn’t in the pool when we come out, he suddenly emerges from the monkey grass, jumps right past us, jumps in and swims around a bit. He then compliantly lets me lift him out after a few laps. (He has to be removed because the chlorine isn’t good for him and sometimes the frogs can’t get out and eventually drown.) This one seems to be an old pro, but I don’t want to take any chances. Besides, it’s a ritual for my two canines who jump up and run for the door when I ask, “Want to go see the frog?”

After deliberations with dogs over continually begging for treats, running through the house, and fighting with one another, I finally sat down to watch a bit of television. Yeah right. The rest of the evening was spent on HazMat cleanup duty that led me to leave this note for Jack:

Sweetie:
One of the dogs threw up—a lot—and Bear was eating it. I had to spray him with the bad dog water spray to get him away from it and put the vacuum over the spot after cleaning it because he was still licking the carpet. Very, very gross!

XXOO,
Me

P. S. How’s that for a love note?

Thank God it’s Tuesday.