Category: Bulldog

There’s one less leprechaun running around here lately.

WHAT: One St. Patrick’s Day Hat

HOW: We’re not exactly sure, since it happened on Hubby’s watch.

Hubby may be an excellent engineer who can solve technical problems as efficiently as a kindergarten teacher fills paste jars; he may even be the kind of guy who can glance over a workout partner over and see that the guy isn’t squeezing his triceps muscle correctly during a French Press; yet his observant and well-educated brain is just only so much kibble in a determined bulldog’s paw.

BONNIE’S REACTION: So how did this happen?

HUBBY’S REACTION: He found it and chewed it up. What? There’s more?

REPLACEMENT COST: None.

I don’t mind him here when I write, but when he snorts, forget it!

My first clue was not the flickering lights. It wasn’t the ZAP! that normally accompanies an electrocution, either. And it definitely wasn’t the smell of singed bulldog hair. Nope.

My first clue something was wrong was Continue reading “Monday Morning Mojo No. 24”

WHAT: One Ziplock lid.

HOW: I took the lid off the leftovers, put the leftovers in the microwave, left the empty bowl and lid on the kitchen island counter, went to the laundry room, forgot why I went to the laundry room, stood still for at least 15 seconds as I pondered my laundry room purpose, gave up and returned to the kitchen—where I found…

…this Ziplock lid, in Mojo’s jaws. (The bowl was still on the counter.)

THE CONUNDRUM: Why did I go to the laundry room? It was for something important. Was it… to do a load of laundry?

No, wait—there was something else I was supposed to do…

Oh, yes! The Monday Morning Mojo! Well, see, our kitchen island counter is 36 inches high. How did the Ziplock lid get from the kitchen counter to Mojo’s mouth?

THE USUAL SUSPECT: Mojo. He leapt up, grabbed it in his mouth like one of those Frisbee-catching dogs you see on TV, crashed back to earth and began gnawing on it.

HIS ALIBI: He’s only 16 inches tall. As far as we know, he can’t reach the kitchen counters. Not yet.

Besides, if a 60 lb bulldog crashed back to earth from a 36″ kitchen counter, I would’ve heard it even in the laundry room. I mean, I may be forgetful as all get out, but I’m not deaf. Not yet.

ANOTHER SUSPECT: One of the cats, probably Bucky. They’re not allowed on the kitchen counters but we catch them up there sometimes, so there is a precedence. Bucky might’ve jumped up and accidentally knocked the lid off the counter into Mojo’s waiting jaws.

HIS ALIBI: Bucky is tough; he wouldn’t have let Mojo take the lid without some sort of unpleasantness, which I would’ve heard.

Still… Bucky sat nearby, licking a paw.

YET ANOTHER SUSPECT: The wind. It blew through an open window, knocked the lid off the counter and into Mojo’s reach.

THE ALIBI: No open windows or doors; so where did said breeze come from?

THE SOLUTION TO THE MYSTERY: Baking soda! I went to the laundry room for the extra box of baking soda I keep in there! Whew! For a moment there, I thought I was losing my marbles! Heh, I’ve still got ’em, though.

REPLACEMENT COST: Eh, baking soda is cheap.

WHAT: My pocketbook.

I bought this pocketbook during the first half of the Clinton Administration. Yeah, I know, it looks like it.

As I recall, it took me about an hour to go through all the pocketbooks at Target until I found JUST THE RIGHT ONE: a pocketbook that could hold everything I threw at it, like:

• my checkbook
• a couple of credit cards
• at least a dozen member discount cards
• one pound of change
• one or two Lego pieces
• a button that popped off somebody’s shirt about three years ago
• one key to I know not where
• a wad of Blockbuster coupons in various stages of expiration
• one piano recital flier
• two report cards
• four swim meet entry cards
• at least eight months’ worth of receipts

… among other things.

This pocketbook held it all. Bravely. Nobly. Without complaint.

Until it met the Mojonator.

HOW: I left it on the couch with my keys (duh!) while I put away our groceries. Next thing I know, our van’s alarm is going off! After I raced to the front yard to see who was trying to break into our van, I realized:

1. Our van doesn’t have a car alarm.

It does have a “panic” button on the key ring, though, a panic button meant to be pressed only in the event of an extreme emergency—like if I can’t fit into my fat pants.

Somebody else was pressing the panic button!

And guess what I found in somebody’s dog bed?

1. One bulldog, chewing on a panic button
2. One chewed-up pocketbook

HUBBY’S REACTION: Left it on the floor, hunh?

BONNIE’S REACTION: I don’t want to talk about it.

REPLACEMENT COST: $29.95.

We’ve had Mojo a little over a year now. He’s become a very popular part of this blog, so I thought I’d post something I wrote back when I was still getting used to life with a bulldog.

Continue reading “Retro Post: Must… get… some… sleep…”

Thanks to last week’s episode of the Monday Morning Mojo, upholstery foam is no longer safe around Mojo. In fact, it would not be an exaggeration to say that once he gets a whiff of upholstery foam, he’ll not stop until he hunts it down and crushes it between his jaws.

WHAT: Dog Bed, After Mojonator Attack

HOW: We always put this covered foam bed outside with Mojo so he has a place to lie in the sun. He’s slept on it many, many times without incident, but that was before he drew first blood—I mean, first foam—in the last Monday Morning Mojo, thus learning what illicit delights await those who rip open upholstery. (They discover FOAM INSIDE.)

When I found the carcass, I picked it up and put it in a safe place. I thought, “Perhaps I can salvage salvage some of this foam, maybe remake it into a cat carrier bed… or something.” And then I put another (non foam) dog bed outside for him to lie down upon; in fact, I put two.

Being the alert human being that I am, I realized that if I left the bed on the ground, Mojo would continue to rip the bed apart, because he is a dog who always finishes what he starts.

Hubby is not an alert human being.

Oh, yes, Hubby may LOOK alert. He may be an excellent engineer and supervise several people; Hubby may even be the proud possessor of an MBA as well as being so lucky as to be married to the author of this blog… but when it comes to his Mojo, Hubby is Definitely Not an Alert Human Being.

WHAT: Dog Bed, After Second Mojonator Attack

HOW: Hubby saw his beloved bulldog outside without a foam bed on which to lie. He searched the house for said foam bed, found it and returned it to the Mojonator, despite its partially-destroyed condition.

MOJO’S REACTION: Woo hoo! The lord giveth back what the lady taketh away! Me thinketh I’m gonna have a great time finishing the job I started!

BONNIE’S REACTION: Aw, Hubby! Why’d you give him back his bed? Didn’t you see he’d already torn it apart?

HUBBY’S REACTION: What do you mean, “torn it apart”? I didn’t notice anything wrong with it. I thought it looked fine! And he needed a bed!

BONNIE: But there were already two dog beds out there for him to use!

HUBBY: But he wanted HIS dog bed.

REPLACEMENT COST: None. Do you really think I’m going to buy more foam beds, knowing what Mojo’ll do to them?

After the two weeks of Toilet Paper Hell, Mojo seemed to settle down.

We thought, “Hey! Maybe Mojo’s starting to grow up! Maybe he’s maturing, and soon we’ll be talking about other things on Monday Morning Mojo, like about how stinky he is, rather than what he’s chewed up.”

We were wrong.

WHAT: Upholstery Foam

HOW: I am reupholstering our dining room set chairs. I bought extra thick foam for the seats and this lighter, less dense foam for the backs. Since I’m working on the seats first, I folded the lighter foam up and put it in my closet.

I guess we all know the end to this story.

BONNIE’S REACTION: Oh, no, you little….

HUBBY’S REACTION: Hold on there! Did you leave this on the floor?

BONNIE’S REACTION: Er, yes, but it was folded up and… big… and he’s never really gone after something big before. I thought he only liked little things!

HUBBY: Well, sure, he liked little things when he was LITTLE. But now he’s BIG. And there you go. Oh, no! You don’t think that stuff will plug him up, do you?

REPLACEMENT COST: $26.53, plus the gas to drive to the upholstery fabric store to replace it.

WHAT: One copy of the San Diego Reader.

HOW: We’re not sure exactly how it happened. Indeed, this whole incident is what we in the parenting biz call “Very Mysterious.”

Here are the facts:

1. Bonnie asked Squirt to take the overgrown pile of newspapers to the recycle bin.
2. Squirt picked up the newspapers and was seen heading for the recycle bin in the garage. (This is where it gets Very Mysterious.)
3. The pile of newspapers somehow made its way from the recycle bin in the garage to the stair landing in the house. All by itself.
4. Mojo found the pile first. He pawed through it and spread newspapers all over the stairs, but he only chewed up the San Diego Reader—presumably because the picture ticked him off.

BONNIE’S REACTION: (Steps on something wet and pulpy.) Eeewww! What is this? Yuck! And here’s some more… (follows pulpy trail and finds the Reader) Oh.

HUBBY’S REACTION: Ho yeah, Mojo, you are da DOG! You showed that beast, didn’t ya! He ain’t so tough now, is he?

BONNIE’S REACTION: SQUIRT!

SQUIRT: But I DID put the newspapers in the recycle bin! I SWEAR! I get blamed for EVERYTHING!

REPLACEMENT COST: None, as the San Diego Reader is free.

No more Toilet Paper Updates. I’m through.

A gal can only take so much carnage before her composure starts to fail. And right now, the trash can is full up to here with shredded tissue and so am I.

Darn dog.

Besides, it’s not like he hasn’t found anything else to mangle.

WHAT: One Blank Floppy Disk

HOW: There’s an old Mac in Squirt’s room that runs software from floppies. He left some of his software and empty floppies… where?

On the floor.

BONNIE’S REACTION: Holy cow, look at this! Squirt! You left some floppies on the floor and Mojo just got into them!

SQUIRT’S REACTION: Oh, that happened DAYS ago, Mom. No big deal.

BONNIE: Days.

SQUIRT: Days!

BONNIE: You left it on the floor like this for DAYS? (her evil eye comes out, and boy is it scary)

SQUIRT: Well, um, maybe not days. I can’t remember!

HUBBY’S REACTION: Awww, Mojo’s curious! He just wanted to see what was inside. Cute little bug.

REPLACEMENT COST: None.