This time it's a story about the dog. And the husband.

Around midnight or so Colonel Brandon starts kicking up a fuss, barking his furry little head off at something outside. How Wondermutt can even see anything outside is a miracle in and of itself since it's dark and he's got enough hair in his eyes to look like a very short, round, poorly groomed sheepdog. Anywho, I tell him to hush since it is midnight and I do have neighbors, and flip the outside light on, just in case it's an axe murderer or those creepy Weeping Angels from Doctor Who or something, and peek out the blinds.

There's a bunny.

"Aww, bunny!" I coo. The dog looks at me like I'm insane for not running outside with a baseball bat and chasing the intruder away because that's HIS yard, dangit. No bunnies allowed!

I go and get the camera and then realize it's too dark to get any pictures without a flash and with the flash I'm just getting pictures of "FLASH" reflecting off the window, which made me sad, but also made me notice the spider.

He was five or ten feet away from the house, web stretching from the tree to the dog run, about head height. "Oh, yuck," I say to the dog, who still seems confused as to my lack of concern about the bunny. So, of course, I start to explain my train of thought to him, you know, as you do. "It's okay, I'll let it stay there tonight and then go out there with a stick tomorrow while it's daylight and get rid of the web and then everyth-OH MY HOLY CHEESE!" as spider number two decides to make its appearance. On the other side of the glass. An inch from my nose.

Then the others move, I don't know if it was the sound of my screech that caused them to stir or what, but suddenly there are half a dozen of the buggers out there. The smallest was an inch and a half wide, the biggest closer to two and a half.

They're webbing over the exits! It's just like that tarantula movie with William Shatner! "They're going to eat us!"

This excites the dog. Either he really likes spider movies, or he thinks we're finally going to go after the bunny, because now he's jumping up and down, barking, and acting like a complete doofus. Not unlike myself.

My skin is crawling just typing this. Tomorrow I'll have to inch my way out of the house carrying a stick and attempt to dismantle any evil web traps and I am so not looking forward to that.

On a completely unrelated note, Captain sent me a hug. As in, he traced his hands and arms on several sheets of paper, taped them together and wrote me a sweet note about keeping this hug until he could come home and give me real ones. To quote a friend of mine, "he lurrrvvveeesss her." And I lurve him.

This time it's a story about the dog. And the husband.

Around midnight or so Colonel Brandon starts kicking up a fuss, barking his furry little head off at something outside. How Wondermutt can even see anything outside is a miracle in and of itself since it's dark and he's got enough hair in his eyes to look like a very short, round, poorly groomed sheepdog. Anywho, I tell him to hush since it is midnight and I do have neighbors, and flip the outside light on, just in case it's an axe murderer or those creepy Weeping Angels from Doctor Who or something, and peek out the blinds.

There's a bunny.

"Aww, bunny!" I coo. The dog looks at me like I'm insane for not running outside with a baseball bat and chasing the intruder away because that's HIS yard, dangit. No bunnies allowed!

I go and get the camera and then realize it's too dark to get any pictures without a flash and with the flash I'm just getting pictures of "FLASH" reflecting off the window, which made me sad, but also made me notice the spider.

He was five or ten feet away from the house, web stretching from the tree to the dog run, about head height. "Oh, yuck," I say to the dog, who still seems confused as to my lack of concern about the bunny. So, of course, I start to explain my train of thought to him, you know, as you do. "It's okay, I'll let it stay there tonight and then go out there with a stick tomorrow while it's daylight and get rid of the web and then everyth-OH MY HOLY CHEESE!" as spider number two decides to make its appearance. On the other side of the glass. An inch from my nose.

Then the others move, I don't know if it was the sound of my screech that caused them to stir or what, but suddenly there are half a dozen of the buggers out there. The smallest was an inch and a half wide, the biggest closer to two and a half.

They're webbing over the exits! It's just like that tarantula movie with William Shatner! "They're going to eat us!"

This excites the dog. Either he really likes spider movies, or he thinks we're finally going to go after the bunny, because now he's jumping up and down, barking, and acting like a complete doofus. Not unlike myself.

My skin is crawling just typing this. Tomorrow I'll have to inch my way out of the house carrying a stick and attempt to dismantle any evil web traps and I am so not looking forward to that.

On a completely unrelated note, Captain sent me a hug. As in, he traced his hands and arms on several sheets of paper, taped them together and wrote me a sweet note about keeping this hug until he could come home and give me real ones. To quote a friend of mine, "he lurrrvvveeesss her." And I lurve him.