My little morkie poo, Jovie, turned one year old last week and to celebrate Mark and I set up a picnic table with girly birthday party accoutrement, In N Out burgers and pupcakes made by my mama. We situated our three dogs on the bench, each with a party hat, and then I attempted to take a picture of the beautiful moment.
If you’ve ever taken pics of doggies you know it’s a bit like trying to pin down hyper toddlers ricocheting off couches and walls. After I decorated the table, it took over six minutes to get a semi-perfect shot that I was happy with. (I know this because Mark set up his phone and did a 25 second time lapse video of the process- which was both frustrating and funny to watch. I can’t upload videos here, but if you want to see it leave a comment below and I’ll email it to you.)
While all of this was going on there was an oily half-naked man playing tennis with himself (by himself?) behind us on the courts. He loped around happily and every time he whacked a ball with his racket he made super loud sex noises.
Tennis racket on ball: “THWHACK!”
“OHHHHHHH — Mmmm… Mmmm… MMMMM!!!”
It was weird and funny and annoying all at the same time, but he was doing his thing and we were doing ours so whatevs… but then… just when the dogs were all looking at me and I went to snap a great pic, Tennis Perv comes out from the courts and enthusiastically yells at us, “Hey! Are you guys having a DOG PARTY?!?!!”
Startled, Larry, Murf and Jovie all turned to bark at him and this is what I got:
Kind of Abbey Road-ish or a nod to The Three Amigos which is cool.
But not what I wanted. Thanks a lot, tennis dude.
So we started all over again and I was able to get this one- YAY!
End result- The birthday girl was quite happy with turning one despite the fact that her “party” was riddled with porno sound effects.
And a few days later she was VERY stoked to receive a birthday gift of monkeys. My little girl might LOOK cute, but she’s a savage beast when it comes to toys. Even Kongs are no match for her evil ways, and pretty much any dog toy that comes through the house gets mutilated and dismembered within a half hour. A few toys have been unlucky enough to be tortured for two or three days before receiving the final murderous blow, but none have survived 36 hours.
And let me preface this with the fact that I HATE MONKEYS. THEY ARE GROSS AND I AM TERRIFIED OF THEM. I loathe real monkeys, ceramic monkeys, stuffed animal monkeys, lawn ornament monkeys, monkeys on documentaries, in movies, pictures of monkeys… JUST EWWWWW! I know it’s bizarre and irrational (much like my personality), and there is no reason for me to have such a phobia, but it exists all the same.
Several weeks ago I was out shopping with Christina and Aggie at IKEA and Jovie was with us. She spied small stuffed animal monkeys in the children’s section and cried for them. Christina held one up to Jovie and it was love at first sight. Jovie was absolutely enraptured. Despite my aversion to all things anthropoid, I bought the monkey. I figured it would be dead within ten minutes of getting it home anyway and I gleefully envisioned it’s stupid little monkey face getting brutally chomped on by puppy teeth over and over and over.
I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE WRONG about a future mauling. Jovie loved that monkey with puppy-like devotion- carrying it around, sleeping with it, playing with it, licking it… she never once tried to slaughter it. Still hasn’t. It figures that the only toy my baby girl adores is a freaking monkey. Ugh.
So Mark and I decided we’d better buy a few more monkeys for her since they’re obviously the only thing worth investing in as far as morkie poo toys go.
I took Jovie to IKEA with me yesterday and surrounded her carrier with icky birthday present monkeys. Her eyes peered through the mesh, huge and excited.
When we got home she loved on the new monkeys, but did not forget her First Love, Banana Joe. I feel sorry for Banana Joe because I think he’d like a little break from all the attention.