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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.]


[User Picture]
Date:May 8th, 2007 10:34 pm (UTC)
We used to have food on counters. Once, in the distant past. Then we got Cassie.

Now, we are very very glad we have a microwave. Of course, we don't use it to heat things, because it's always full of whatever food we don't want to put in the refrigerator. It is basically a locking breadbox at this point. So, my tip to you: get a very big microwave. You'll be glad you did.

Raw veggies are about the only thing he doesn't eat.


Both our dogs love raw veggies, except for eggplant and mushrooms. (They don't believe those are really food items.) When I prep vegetables for dinner, they sit there, staring at the cutting board, hoping I will send some part of the vegetable boinging into space. The day that I dropped a whole zucchini on the floor, there was a party in dogville.
[User Picture]
Date:May 8th, 2007 10:43 pm (UTC)
Buddy likes potatoes and that's it. Of course, he always wants to try whatever I'm chopping up but he usually spits it out if I give him a taste.

As to the microwave--we use ours like a breadbox too. We generally put whatever's for dinner but not on our plates in the microwave until we either want seconds or put it away for leftovers. Every now and then I'll open it at lunch and realize we left something in there the night before.

Buddy's the worst with meat and cheese, but he goes pretty crazy for bread too. We made burgers on the grill last week. I got buns out while Chris went out to get the meat off the grill. I turned around for something else then back to the counter and the buns were gone. I thought maybe Chris took them. He came back in with only meat. We ended up having our burgers on hotdog rolls. *sigh*

It doesn't help that his head is counter height. My mom has two tiny Papillon's and I'm a little jealous that she doesn't have to deal with this problem.
[User Picture]
Date:May 9th, 2007 11:28 pm (UTC)
*waves* HI! I was linked to this post by someone on my flist and I see YOU! YAY!

I use my microwave as a locking thing that the cats can not operate, yet, too.

Nessa was the cat that ate most of a loaf of bread overnight and after that I stopped leaving food on counters, an 8 lb cat destroyed a loaf of bread. I was really surprised and amused. I use my oven and microwave as storage. I can't really use my pantry as both Meg and China know how to open the bifold door. Unless it is in a can or jar it goes in the fridge, oven or microwave. Animals are tricky. And I think they are often smarter than me.

A side thing - does Buddy like carrots? Every dog I have ever had loved raw carrots. I think that is strange, but hurrah for healthy snacks?
[User Picture]
Date:May 10th, 2007 12:02 am (UTC)
Carrots are great snacks for dogs. So, of course, Buddy turns his nose up at them. He doesn't like commercially made dog biscuits either, though. He's a snob for my homemade dog cookies. He'll eat other treats (like Snausages), but not biscuits.

Our pantry has a regular door. Otherwise, I'm sure he'd be in there all the time. But we can actually close and latch it which makes a difference.

I've heard of dogs eating loaves of bread (Buddy has done this), but never cats. I'm sort of amazed that such a small cat ate so much. Good grief.
[User Picture]
Date:May 10th, 2007 12:05 am (UTC)
Also here via my friends list, and I just had to say I have a coworker who has a lock on her refrigerator because her dogs will get in and eat everything.

One of them actually drank a bunch of polyurethane and was apparently okay. Though the cleanup sounds like it was horrendous.

Hilarious post, thanks for it!
[User Picture]
Date:May 15th, 2007 02:27 pm (UTC)
Try 7 cats and 2 dogs.

No food is safe.
[User Picture]
Date:May 15th, 2007 06:12 pm (UTC)
Yeah, it's hard enough having a dog big enough to eat off the counter without any effort. We're wanting a second, but I'm kind of scared of two Saint Bernards in my kitchen. :)
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