Tuesday, Nov. 11, 2008

The Korean whisperer

It's 11:11 am right now on Nov. the 11th and there's a story about a girl who's turning 11 today on our main site at exactly 11:11 p.m. First off, was this planned?? Did the mother use the last of her energy to hold-off on giving birth until it turned 11:11 p.m.? If so, that is talent. Excruciating talent.

My friend Amy gave me a Starbucks mug for my birthday (among other things), which was really sweet. I have this thing for big mugs. I don't know why, considering I hardly drink out of them except in the winter time. But something inside me just wants to collect as many as I can, all for the sake of cuteness.

Speaking of cuteness, I have this penguin sitting next to me. It's a small lunch bag in the shape of a penguin that I bring to work every day. It's a bit juvenile, but it adds to my really immature desk: Hello Kitty, Totoro, Pink Godzilla, Winslow the talking iPod... I suppose my Starbucks mug is the most mature thing I have on here.

Lately, my dog has been giving me attitude. Of all people, I need attitude from my dog. This isn't surprising, since my cat used to give me attitude all the time. My mother says I tortured my cat, but who doesn't, except for really old women who live alone with 12 of them? Even then, that could be considered torture...having to share your food bowl with 12 other siblings that probably aren't even blood related?

Now, my cat lives with my parents. It was sad letting her go, but she is a princess over there, with a princess pink fuzzy bed to prove it. She also walks around in a harness lately, simply because my mother doesn't want to have to put it back on her later. It's cute; I expect gun-holsters sewn on the side the next time I'm there.

But yeah, my dog. Mr. Big has trained him terrifically. I get all hot 'n steamy about it. Mochi will "heel," which is sit right next to your side when you're walking. He knows not to enter a room before you. He knows he can't come inside without your command. Most of the time we can walk him off-leash. And unless you're a rooster, he wouldn't think about harming you.

Still, sometimes it's difficult to get Mochi to calm down when we first walk outside. He'll hunker down and run like a bullet, supposedly channeling his husky tendencies. It takes a while, but he'll finally stop running around in circles. That's when you slap on the spiky collar and clip on the leash. It's go time.

I wonder what our neighbors think, constantly hearing us shouting "No! NO! Sit! Mochi SIT!" But then again, we don't ask questions when we see their rottweiler ramming against the wooden fence and jumping up so high he almost clears it...

But I love their rot. He's old and friendly. I guess him ramming the fence is his way of feeling like a young puppy again. Or he's just trying to escape having handkerchiefs put around his neck.

I'm no Victoria Stilwell (the British Whisperer, we like to call her), and Mr. Big is no Cesar Millan, so who knows what animals are really thinking. When we dumb their actions down, we feel bad, yet when we think there's some hidden-pent-up explanation for their behavior, we look silly.

So what exactly is Mochi doing that makes me believe he's acting up?

We had this giant orange exercise ball that I use in our bedroom when we watch TV. One night, I swore I smelled pee. "Mochi, did you pee?" I kept asking him. I couldn't find a wet spot.

Then, Mr. Big caught a whiff of it, too. As he turned his head, he caught Mochi hiking his leg up on the orange ball, relieving himself. I screamed in horror. Then quickly decided I would never use the ball again.

What’s your embarassing pet moment?