Flashback Floyd-day.

Flashback Floyd-day.

Cowfloyd.

Cowfloyd.

Floyd and Bobo, w/footballs.

Floyd and Bobo, w/footballs.

Snow Day in the ATL.

Snow Day in the ATL.

Tags: dogs snow atl

Puppy Bowl or Super Bowl, Bobo’s got your back.

Puppy Bowl or Super Bowl, Bobo’s got your back.

Snow day.

Snow day.

January.

January.

The Evangelist

Creepiest middle-of-the-night experience ever. Wake up a little before 4:00 a.m. and head to the bathroom, where gradually it dawns on me I’m hearing a man’s deep, droning voice somewhere inside my house. It’s deathly still otherwise, pitch black, everyone asleep but me.

I feel my way down the hall, then down the stairs, cold with fear but unable to resist moving toward the sound. I lean around the kitchen doorway, and there, across the open floor plan, above the living room fireplace, on a TV that was decidedly turned off before bed, is a silver-combed man, Southern and insistent, in an outdated blue suit, a deeper blue curtain drawn behind him, sitting at a desk cleared of all but a single, old-fashioned table microphone.

He’s pointing one thick, bullying finger at what seems to be me, quoting fiery scripture on accountability and thundering on about condemnation. I stare up at him, powerless and terrified, the accused before the judge, when the screen goes suddenly black, then just as suddenly back to the man, black and to the man again, as if he’s willing himself there, conjuring this court and conviction into my living room.

My eye catches movement over the sofa back — is that a head? — a child? But no, no child would dare lie in the dark here like this, alone with this harbinger of doom. Unless they were possessed…a possessed child, maybe?

Oh — no, it’s only Floyd. Thank God for Floyd, though I notice with alarm he seems just as scared as me. My brain kicks in and I begin searching for the remote, the man shouting above us then silenced, shouting then silenced. And at last, I understand.

"MOVE, Floyd!!!" I yell, shoving at him, digging through fat and fur until finally I locate the remote underneath his rear. Once the house is quiet, I start to feel sorry for him, so I go back and give him a reassuring hug, whispering that the mean man’s all gone now. He settles in, and I head back up the silent staircase, accountable to no one. 

Annie REFUSES to go out, though she unquestionably has to pee. I’ve mentioned that if you try to pick her up, she screeches and snarls and thrashes as if you’re about to hurl her into a pit of snakes. So here’s how I just got her outside. First, I picked up one side of the dog bed and shook, but she held on as if I were a wave and the bed a life raft. Seriously, I picked the WHOLE thing up and held it vertically in the air for at LEAST five seconds before she dropped. Then I slid her across the hardwood floor until we hit a rug and she gained traction with her claws. Finally I wound up ROLLING her, exactly like a LOG, the rest of the way to the side door, then shoving her with my foot until she fell, clinging, off the stoop.

Annie REFUSES to go out, though she unquestionably has to pee. I’ve mentioned that if you try to pick her up, she screeches and snarls and thrashes as if you’re about to hurl her into a pit of snakes. So here’s how I just got her outside. First, I picked up one side of the dog bed and shook, but she held on as if I were a wave and the bed a life raft. Seriously, I picked the WHOLE thing up and held it vertically in the air for at LEAST five seconds before she dropped. Then I slid her across the hardwood floor until we hit a rug and she gained traction with her claws. Finally I wound up ROLLING her, exactly like a LOG, the rest of the way to the side door, then shoving her with my foot until she fell, clinging, off the stoop.

Tags: dogs parenting