the Bucky Four-Eyes Cotillion

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

You're so fine you blow my mind, hey Mickey!

Perhaps I have mentioned here before that my mother is a very sweet person, much nicer than the likes of me, and certainly not the kind of woman who'd violate toy amphibians. Nope, Mom is a gem, a lamb, a sweetheart who was inexplicably punished with awful children. And by "awful children" I mean me.

When I first moved to Flint, I shared an apartment with my parents, Tardist, Tardist's bitch, and his dog, Mickey. Long-time readers may best remember Mickey as the dog upon whom I once vomited. When he wasn't covered in beer spew, he was quite a handsome dog. He was a German Shepherd/Norwegian Elkhound mix, which meant he was rather large and looked a lot like a steer. My mom, who tends to gush over all things animal, was absolutely in love with Mickey, and would often describe him with terms like (and I am not makin' this up, not a word of it), "dark golden stocking leg" and "black velvety goat ears." There was no doubt that Mickey was her favorite grandchild, and she felt no need to make a secret of it.

Mom and Mickey spent many hours of quality time together. He'd do a little trick and she'd praise him. He'd eat his food and she'd praise him. He'd take a dump in the yard and she'd praise him. I think you get the picture by now - Mom adored that damned cow of a dog.

One particularly chilly autumn day, I was doin' my best to play the fuck out of Mom's piano, or at the very least make it feel extremely violated, and Mom was outside with Mickey, runnin' the field in front of our apartment building. The front door opened and Mickey burst through, all chilly weather exuberance and spoiled dog glee. Mom soon followed him, with a scarf wrapped 'round her hair to protect The Bouf from windshear damage, a fluffy winter coat to keep her warm, and some white sweatpants that were strictly for comfort. I swiveled around on the piano bench to greet Mickey, and he spun back and forth, gettin' petted by me, then Mom, then me again. He was in the Cute Zone, all dog smiles and big fan of a tail goin' a mile a minute. Mom was tuned into his zone, apparently, because she was especially delighted with him, and she kept petting him with both hands and exclaiming with sheer adoration, "Oh, Mickey!" He'd wheel around and show me his dog smile and I'd love on him, then he'd veer around and grace Mom with the happy face, whereupon she'd hug him, clap, and once again burst out with a very loving "Oh, Mickey!"

This went on for a few minutes, the back-and-forth with the dog. Then the look on Mickey's face changed ever so slightly; in retrospect I can say exactly what it was, but I had no clue at the moment. All I know is, as I sat there watchin', Mickey backed up to my mother, pushed his asshole flush with her sweatpants, and wiped. This wasn't just, "Oh, the dog brushed against me accidentally." No. It was a very purposeful wiping of the ass. The dog's ass. On my mom's pants. Once he had finished scraping his sphincter across my mother's clothing, Mickey adopted the most self-satisfied expression on his face, wagged his tail even harder, and pranced away from the scene of the crime. When he stepped away, he revealed what might have been a good copy of the Nike swoop logo, had it not been brown, and on my mom's white sweatpants.

Mom and I saw the evidence at the exact same moment. The look on Mom's face quickly became disbelieving horror, and her approving cries of "Oh, Mickey!" were replaced by a plaintive and slightly irritated "Ohhhhh, Mickey!

I'd like to be able to tell you that I was helpful in my mother's moment of need, that I sprang right up to console her, and to help her get those streaked sweatpants into the wash. But it would be a lie, a big dirty lie, and I save my big dirty lies for home. I was absolutely no help, as I had at that point fallen off the piano bench and was on the floor, clutching myself to keep my ribs from busting through the skin as I laughed, breathless and completely helpless, at my poor mother's misfortune.

I'm sure Satan has some interesting skidmarks in store for me when I get there.

20 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':

Blogger eclectic said...

No bidet? What did you expect?!? Poor Mickey...

12:14 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger Unknown said...


I just love a good "see-that's-yet-another-reason-I-don't-have-any-pets" story...

12:25 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger Mahala said...

Oh man, we can't let my dogs read this, they'll be trying it out for themselves.

12:28 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger Candy said...

Whatever, I get woken up by 12 cats wanting to show off their pink starfish every morning, and they arent always pink.

2:13 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger Nina said...

I am afraid I would have been rolling on the floor with you. Those laughing tears coming out of my eyes. Unless it was my pants that were used.

2:19 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger Katy Barzedor said...

Eclectic - hey, the little fucker had a sauna, what more was he gonna ask for?

CKelli - don't the little clowns ever decorate your clothing in a similar manner?

Romani Heart - I will do my best to keep it from them.

Jess - ok, the pink starfish talk reduces my maturity level to, say, 12 years old. Maybe. Giggling like a pre-teen here.

Nanina - yup, it's all fun and games until it's YOUR pants with the dog's skidmark.

2:30 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger Amy said...

Pink Starfish!

That is too good. Damn that Jess and her poetic ways. SHE's the one they shoulda sent up in Contact instead of Jodie Foster.

Your poor mom! But she didn't say "Hey Mickey!". That would have been good.

2:50 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger Katy Barzedor said...

Amy - d'oh, why'd you have to go and make me think about "Contact"?
I'll bet the ending woulda been different with a recast, though...

3:34 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger Mr. Bloggerific Himself said...

Puppy Skid Marks! Yeah!

4:36 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger Ghost of Goldwater said...

Hmmm... Maybe I should change my name to Norwegian Elkhound? The pride of Norway, they are... very, very clever dogs. I have no doubt the little bastard did it on purpose.

4:51 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger Maven said...

It's a shame my dad wasn't on the scene... he uses BABY WIPES on his Yorkie's butt to avoid that kinda thing. Yeah. Dad's an eccentric. Baby Wipes.

I literally LAUGHED OUT LOUD LIKE A HYENA when I read this. I'm eventually going to lose my job due to my cackle. I just know it.

5:31 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger Unknown said...

Heh, only once did one of my children poop on my clothing, and she was only 10 weeks old. Spit up, however, is a totally different story. Suffice it to say, I don't want to raise anything that will not grow out of the stage where I have to clean up it's poop.

5:34 PM, October 25, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

THAT was fuckin' hysterical. We had a dog that would slid its ass along the floor whenever it felt the urge. We gave up and started doing the same thing. You can really save a BUNDLE on butt-wipe that way!

6:24 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger Squirl said...

Mickey, Mickey, Mickey. Dogs can be really gross sometimes. But he was usually such a sweetie.

6:44 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger Kranki said...

THAT is too funny. I wish you had a pic of the facial expression change.

6:53 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger I'm not here. said...

Who's the leader of the club that's made for you and me?
M-I-C-K-E-Y M-A-R-K-S !

7:33 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger Michele in Michigan said...

So YOUR mom was responsible for writing that cheerleading song!!!

Like JessicaRabbit, I am greeted with sphincter love by my 5 kitties. One of them actually sat on my arm as I was using my laptop, I SWEAR there was this faint little kissing sound & when she stood up, I had a wet spot on my ARM! I was SO fucking grossed out...

9:12 PM, October 25, 2005  
Blogger Zombie_Flyboy said...

Shit stains and pink starfishes.

Looks like another normal day at the four eyed cotillion.

2:27 AM, October 26, 2005  
Blogger Katy Barzedor said...

Mr. B - he was as proud of himself as you are of him.

Ghost - we've known all along that you're the pride of Norway. You might as well adopt the title, too.

Nugget - I think if you tell them the cackle is a medical condition, they have to keep you on at work. ;)

CKelli - well, you do have a point there. A dog will never outgrow the need to use humans as toilet paper. A baby PROBABLY will.

Dazed - of course, you have to weigh the cost of all that unbought TP against how often you then had to replace the carpet...

Squirl - he was very sweet. Unless he was wipin' his ass on you. Then...not so much.

Kranki - oh, I'd pay good money for a pic of my mom's face when she realized...

M_D - I'm glad Mickey has his own cheering section now.

Michele in Mich - a kissing sound? EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! But really, I'd be disappointed if you hadn't shared that. ;)

Mrtl - what? You don't think that's an acceptable way for a pet to show its devotion?

Zombie - and we haven't even gotten to the pee stains yet.

8:24 AM, October 26, 2005  
Blogger Annejelynn said...

"Once he had finished scraping his sphincter across my mother's clothing..." - this part alone, totally taken out of context is hysterical...

5:34 PM, October 26, 2005  

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