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02:29 pm: I Has a Sweet Potato
You know, a lot of times I write up random posts and then don't post them. But Best Beloved just called me, and I could not really explain why I was inarticulate about sweet potatoes, so I said I'd go ahead and post this. That way, she can read it at work and know just what kind of day it has been. (Short version, for those who do not feel like reading the whole post: ARRRRRRG. Fucking sweet potatoes.)

The longer version, summarized in conversation form:

Dog: I am starving.
Me: Actually, no. You aren't starving. You get two very good meals a day. And treats. And Best Beloved fed you extra food while I was gone.
Me: I saw you get fed not four hours ago! You are not starving.
Dog: Pity me, a sad and tragic creature, for I can barely walk, I am so starving. WOE.
Me: I am now ignoring you.
Dog: Did you hear me? I am starving.
Dog: Are you seriously ignoring me? Fine.

[There is a pause, during which the dog exits the room in a pointed manner.]

[From the kitchen, there comes a noise like someone is eating a baseball bat.]

Me, yelling: What the hell are you doing?
Me: *makes haste for the kitchen and finds dog there*
Dog: *picks up entire raw sweet potato, which is what was causing the baseball bat noise, and flees for the bedroom*
Me: *chases dog, retrieves most of sweet potato, less the portion which has disappeared into dog's gullet*
Me: ...That can't be good for you. It's a RAW SWEET POTATO.
Dog: I had to do it. I haven't been fed. Ever.
Me: You realize you aren't normal. Normal dogs don't steal raw sweet potatoes.
Dog, sadly: I was badly brought up.
Me: Yes. Yes, you were.
Dog: By people who starved me.
Me: Oh, no. I am not doing this again.
Me: *exits the room, bearing sweet potato*

[There is a pause.]

[There is a noise like someone is trying to eat a baseball bat very very quietly.]

Me: Oh, for the love of GOD.
Me: *heads off to the kitchen*
Dog: I am not eating a raw sweet potato.
Me: You have sweet potato parts all over your snout.
Dog: But you don't actually SEE a raw sweet potato, do you? So maybe that's just - um. A birthmark.
Me: Did you seriously eat a whole sweet potato?
Dog: You don't listen. I told you, I wasn't eating a sweet potato.
Me, searching around fruitlessly: Look. NO MORE SWEET POTATOES.
Me: Oh, what am I saying? This is you we're talking about, here. *goes to hide all the sweet potatoes that are left - which isn't many - in the fridge, because some people cannot be trusted*
Dog: *attempts to look thwarted*
Dog: *does not succeed, because her tail is wagging so hard small cyclones are forming in the kitchen*
Me: *has a very bad feeling about this*

[There is a pause, during which I do not even bother trying to return to what I was doing. I just stand in the computer room, waiting.]

[There is, as I wholly expected, a baseball-bat-eating noise.]

Me, stomping back to the kitchen: OKAY. GIVE ME THE DAMNED SWEET POTATO.
Dog, looking up guiltily: What sweet potato?
Dog: Oh, did you want this? I just, um. Found it. Lying here.
Me: *confiscates the sweet potato and deposits it in the locking trashcan*
Me: Let us say no more about this.
Dog: ...Nooooo! They be stealin' my sweet potato!

[I attempt to remember what I was doing before the sweet potato episode.]

[Some ten minutes later, I succeed, and return to it.]

[NOT ONE MINUTE LATER, I hear a noise with which I have become all too familiar.]

Me, bonking head on desk: Arg.
Me, arriving in kitchen: How did you even get another sweet potato?
Dog, smugly: I have my ways.
Me: Are you punishing me for being away for several days? I was at a FUNERAL, you know. It wasn't FUN.
Dog: How would I know? You didn't take me. You left me here with only one human to look after my needs. One human is NOT ENOUGH.
Me: *shuts dog in bedroom, conducts a sweep of the kitchen to track down all remaining sweet potatoes, wipes up random sweet potato particles from floor, eradicates all traces of sweet potato from house*
Me: *lets dog out*
Dog, sulkily: Oh, so you think you've won.

[I watch her go about her business with the same sense of overwhelming doom that heroines of Victorian novels get when they meet Count Sinistrus Grimblack for the first time.]

[Half an hour later, there is a wetter, juicier eating noise, as though someone was eating a very moist baseball bat.]

Me, wearily: What NOW?
Dog, hunched over the remains of a butternut squash: *says something garbled because her mouth is full*
Me: Okay. Fine.
Me: *stomps over, empties entire vegetable bowl into trash*
Dog: I'm not even remotely sorry. I told you I was hungry. And you went to a funeral without me.

[A half-hour later, there is another baseball-bat-eating noise from the kitchen. The dog, who apparently does not know how to win gracefully, has found another sweet potato, or possibly caused one to materialize from the Rift.]

Me, hauling chewed sweet potato parts from the mouth of a dog very reluctant to part with them: Oh my god how is this my life?
Dog: Don't you think it would just be easier to feed me?
Dog: Actually, I feel...um...not so good.
Dog: *throws up* *vomit is very bright orange*

[Unfortunate details ensue.]

Some time later:
Me, attempting to rescue something from the wreckage: So. What have we learned from this?
Dog: Sweet potatoes are yummy!
Other Dog, looking thoughtful: I should pay more attention to crunching noises. Sweet potatoes are probably yummy.
Me: I need a lobotomy.

And that, Best Beloved - and anyone else who made it through that - is What Kind of Day It Has Been.


[ETA 6/22/2007: Hi! I can't reply to comments on this entry any more; I'm reading them all, and loving them, but responding is beyond me. So:

If you'd like to link people here, feel free.

If you'd like to leave a comment, please do. They make me happy.

If you'd like to repost or use this elsewhere, please don't; I'd prefer you to link. And no commercial use of my work without my permission, please.

If you see this reposted or used elsewhere, I'd very much appreciate a comment or email - thefourthvine at livejournal dot com - to let me know where.

Thank you for reading!

...And, yes, she has had more sweet potato; I gave it to her when the comments on this hit the tenth page. I figured she'd earned it.]


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[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 03:34 pm (UTC)
I laughed very hard. Dog is just like my 5-year-olds.
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 04:09 pm (UTC)
Usually I give a discriminatory glare to people who imagine conversations with their pets, but this was actually quite funny!
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 04:21 pm (UTC)
No lie, I have had this exact same experience, except the butternut squash was an Idaho potatoe.
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 04:37 pm (UTC)
Oh my lol.

[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 05:07 pm (UTC)
Came here through a friend's link. As someone with a very smart and mischievous dog, I could relate very well.
Thank you for this.
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 05:27 pm (UTC)
I was pointed here.
As the owner of a dog who has, eaten a $150 pair of Oakleys, unwrapped a Wendy's hamburger and ate only the meat and left the bun perfectly intact, etc, I feel your pain.

I was also laughing my head off.
Very well written.

[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 05:56 pm (UTC)
OMG! I am laughing my ass off at this!!!!!!
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 06:13 pm (UTC)
I'm literally LOLing so hard I'm crying. I had to pause in my reading to compose myself so I could actually see the screen enough to read. :)
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 06:25 pm (UTC)
I do believe this is the first time I've every read anything posted by anyone that literally made me cry with laughter. I have a dog. I understand completely.

Holy shit, that was hysterical. You win at teh internetz today! :cD
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 06:29 pm (UTC)
Honestly, this post alone would have been enough for me to friend you (wow; that makes it sound like my standards are high, which...they aren't) but then I read your last Buffy fic, and "Mullet Doughboy" just sealed the deal.

Thanks for making me laugh. It was much needed.
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 08:05 pm (UTC)
*laughing until tears come out of my eyes*

May I please link to this? And send the link to my mother, whose Manchester terrier recently tucked away half a pound of Godiva? (Boy, did she regret it later, though!)
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 08:09 pm (UTC)
omg. I laughed until I cried, then I laughed until I COULDN'T BREATHE! Please, don't feed your dog any more sweet potatoes. And then don't write about it. I need to breathe...
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 08:10 pm (UTC)
When Kirby (the Batdog of the icon) turned two we threw him a birthday party. We'd adopted him a year earlier, after seeing an ad in the paper that said, "Free to a good home." We got the better end of the deal, and wanted to celebrate him. We knew his favorite treat was brie, and graced him with a small wedge on the saucer (including birthday candle!). He snarfed it down.

Now, we also like brie. And had a cheese tray on the round table in between the two wing back chairs. Our townhouse doesn't have walls between the dining room and living room, just a step down, and the chairs back up to the step. We sat down to eat dinner. Kirby did his usual trick of begging for food (really begging - he sits on his rear and pulls his paws up and looks at us with desperate eyes), then went quiet.

"Where's Kirby," my sister asked.

I looked around and spotted him, up in a wing back chair, leaning as far as he could over to the round table, licking the side of our hunk of brie like his life depended on it. He ate so much, in so short a time, that we were amazed.

I jumped up and dragged him away, and he never looked sorry, just immensely smug that he'd been able to get one over on us.
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 08:17 pm (UTC)
You should turn professional. OMG that is funny. Because I have been there. Mine was butter from the table.
[User Picture]
Date:May 11th, 2007 09:23 pm (UTC)
I just reread this in the midst of AARGH, while surrounded by mass confusion and pieces of thesis, which almost rhymes but kind of shouldn't, as well as far too many things on paper and all the words in my head.

And lo, this was howlingly funny and did amuse me mightily, even to the voluntaree ytyping of words which are not a part of the Dreadde Theesis Loki *bonks head gently on keyboard*

Thankee, verily, for relumning my guttering sense of humour. It wasn't guttering in the fun way at all, but you and the dog and its sweet, sweet potatos have helped me find my misplaced giggles.

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