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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 28th, 2007 09:52 pm (UTC)
Wow... The dog/potato thing doesn't surprise me, but that narrative was impressive.
Date:May 29th, 2007 07:11 pm (UTC)
Reminds me of the time my dog ate a box of Crayons and pooping rainbows for a few days.
Myassis.Dragon - just visiting - and wiping thw tears from my eyes.
Date:May 29th, 2007 07:12 pm (UTC)
Reminds me of the time my dog ate a box of Crayons and pooped rainbows for a few days.
Myassis.Dragon - just visiting - and wiping the tears from my eyes.
[User Picture]
Date:May 30th, 2007 05:40 pm (UTC)
Hi! i've been reading your posts and find them absolutely delightful, so i've added you to my flist.

That's really it.

Oh, and this was a brilliant post.
[User Picture]
Date:June 4th, 2007 11:26 pm (UTC)

Can has sweet potatoe?


We've taken to calling all our personal electronic devices Sweet Potatoes, since we tend to use them stealthily at inappropriate times.
[User Picture]
Date:June 5th, 2007 10:30 pm (UTC)
You got Particled over at Making Light :-)

(I saw this a couple of weeks ago, and it's STILL funny!)
[User Picture]
Date:June 5th, 2007 11:47 pm (UTC)
Here via Making Light.

I laughed so hard I cried.
Date:June 6th, 2007 03:43 am (UTC)

Yep. That'd be a dog.

I'm sorry for your Day. You know, you may look back and laugh. It'll be the bleak, hollow kind of laughter, probably, but hey.

I have a spoodle and an attack-cat who form Ingenious Criminal Plots. So far, they have kidnapped corn cobs, a whole raw chicken, numerous bread loaves and, in an incident which I fear echoes your experience, a half-kilo block of butter. The cat gets things off the bench (or, in the case of the chicken, *out of the bloody microwave* by butting the door-opener with her head) and the dog drags them to a Top Secret Hiding Spot.

Lily, having consumed the better part of a half kilo of butter, graced my other half's boating shoes with the aftermath. Almost a dog-goes-or-I-do moment, it was.

Anyhow, thanks for the laugh.

Date:June 6th, 2007 01:32 pm (UTC)
That was funny, my dog loves to eat cat poop. I can accept sweet potatoes.
[User Picture]
Date:June 7th, 2007 09:26 pm (UTC)
This is one of the best things I have read in a long time!!!

My dog was EXACTLY the same way!!

May I share with some of my dog loving friends?
Date:June 9th, 2007 01:42 am (UTC)


OMG, way too much of this sounded entirely too familiar. STILL Laughing.
[User Picture]
Date:June 10th, 2007 02:00 am (UTC)
I'm laughing so hard I'm crying. CRYING, I tell you.
[User Picture]
Date:June 10th, 2007 08:18 pm (UTC)
Saw this link on making light, and since it was livejournal I had to look. I couldn't stop laughing, and at some point I started crying while laughing. My cat Boris got spooked by it, giving me the "whatever's going on, I didn't do it, and I want no part of it" look, before darting out of the room. It happened again much the same way on re-reading it.

We only have the one cat, and he's too proud to scavange (also it helps that my husband was raised with dogs, so he has a compulsion about checking to make sure we are not leaving food out, even when no pets have lived with us). What isn't too proud of is begging, and he does beg, whenever humans engage in food preparation and/or food consumption.

His MO is to pretend to sleep around, then as soon as someone is by the kitchen counter, he will just jump on the kitchen table, where he can have a view of all goings on in the kitchen, and start meow up a storm as soon as things come out of the fridge to be turned into food. Then the conversations ensue.

"Sorry, not kitten food!"
"Well, yes, I know you associate a counter and cutting board with food being prepared, but it's human food. Not for cats."
"I can't hear yooooouuuu!"
"Meow, meow, meow!!"
"No you are not starving. There's food a mere 3 feet from the table. Good food. Formulated for you."
"No, you're not starving. We have food out all the f-ing time. Why, there's half a cup of dry food right there now!"
"I don't care if you are bored with your food. You're not getting mine. You're already spoiled. We give you free reign of the house, and you have more toys than you know what to do with. We feed you around the clock, even going so far as buying an automatic feeder so we can ensure you never have to go hungry, ever. You get treats daily while in play and even out of the blue. You even get extra treats when you're good and let us trim your nails."
"Fine, I see you won't listen to reason. I'm really gonna start ignoring you now." *positions self so that cat only sees my back*
*waits 30 seconds, then extends paw on one of my shoulders, tapping gently* "Mow?"
*turns around*"For Chrissakes, leave me alone already!"
*to husband* "Chris!!!!!! Get your butt out here and lure the cat away with you!"
[User Picture]
Date:June 11th, 2007 01:38 pm (UTC)
I'm so glad it wasn't me who had to clean up the sweet potato puke but holy cow, terribly amusing stuff. Thank you!
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