Courage the Cowardly Dog

Had the WORST night last night. Woke up cold, miserable and just cranky. A mossie had come into my bedroom and was enthusiastically consuming huge quantities of prime grade a Jean Juice. And once I was up, I realised I had been bitten. So there I was – itchy, cold and wide-awake. What did not help matters was the fact that Mr. Darcy had once again succumbed to his little weakness (the damn freakoid) and had rescued my lingerie from a drawer and was cuddling with my La Senza panties. Sigh…I guess I must explain.

Mr. Darcy is my (almost) year old Toy Pomeranian. White, dainty and schizo. Apart from all other obvious clues, he does not realise that he is a boy dog and languishes in a gender-confused state where he is basically always the most beautiful little fairy dog. He is absolutely tiny. With the tiniest little paws (which he uses to clean himself like a cat) and the tiniest little teeth (which he uses to catch lizards for his mommy yuk). In many ways he is a real cutie…with the face of an angel and the sweetest disposition ever. Never bad-tempered and certainly not a yapper, you`d think that he would be the apple of my eye and not his vagabond, crazy sister my (almost) two-year old Yorkie, Stormy. You`d think. However….when you`re on your way to work, bleary eyed and not fully awake (since you haven`t had the morning call from the FPU) you do not expect little surprises. Let me explain… My morning routine is fairly simple. Stumble out of bed. Go for a walk. Curse. Come home. Shower while the coffee`s pithing away. Get out of shower, dry, slap on some body butter and perfume, go to kitchen. Feed and water doggies, pour coffee. Stumble back to bedroom. Sit on bed and have small fashion crises.

Approach what do I wear hysteria. Find something to wear. Finish dressing. Rinse coffee mug. Say goodbye to furkids. Lock up and go out to garage. Reverse car out of garage and close garage door. Drive past big gate where fur kids are now standing attentively waiting for mommy to pass by. Try and ignore the accusatory looks from fur kids for leaving them home alone, so as to guarantee a guilt free day. Except….wait. What`s that in Darcy`s mouth. Pink? What pink cloth is in his mouth…. Oh well…drive on. Now approaching huge security gate of complex. Oh Shit! That`s me knickers.

Oh Shit!

The whole neighbourhood must be driving past my gate where my dog is proudly displaying my pink knickers. At this point I reverse rather dramatically. Jump out of the car and a 10 minute chase ensues (because Darcy naturally thinks that this is a rather fun game mommy`s playing….Yippeee). And you know what, it would not be that bad if the little deviant didn`t insist on stealing the best stuff…the best of my La Senza and La Perla favourites. I thought to myself that there must be something wrong with me. Or my knickers (heaven forbid).

And this morning at 04h15, after a ballistic mosquito woke me, I had an EPIPHANY. Perhaps he is stealing those items of delicate clothing because it is most accessible to him. It`s in the two bottom layers of my chest of drawers, which just so happen to have little cut out designs JUST big enough for a little paw to snake through, grab something` satiny and soft and leg it off to the garden for a good chew. mmmm….not so deviant is he.

Silly mommy.

So, had you been around at 5am this morning, you would`ve found a very happy princess re-organising her wardrobe. And all my knickers…well out of the way of my little angel.

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