Creampuff Would Like to – Hey! You Kids! Get Off My Lawn!

Becoming a homeowner has changed us all.

I find that I’m caring about new things, like the lawn, and I’m overly concerned about new things, like how last week, someone busted into our garbage area and ripped our garbage bags apart looking for food (I suspect man-sized raccoons).

I also really notice the comings and goings of our upstairs neighbours and am VERY CURIOUS about their every move. I’ve become like Mrs. Rachel Lynde, sitting on my porch, saying things like “Where could Matthew Cuthbert be going? In his suit? He’s not going fast enough for a doctor!” And then I have to try very hard to not yell “Where are you going now? I like your purse!” out the office window when the neighbours are on their way to work.

It’s not just the humans who’ve made an adjustment. Since we moved into our new place, Emmy has a new schedule:

Wake up. Whine to be let out.

OUT!

Front yard inspection, cut short by fattie.

Play with toy for 2.5 seconds.

Breakfast.

Cram self up fatties’ asses in their office until lunchtime walk.

FREEDOM!

Sleep in living room nook all afternoon, occasionally growling at UPS guy.

Pre-dinner tomcat chase.

Dinner.

Sleep in bedroom, away from loud fatties and their sad busted-by-the-movers TV (seen below)

We were a little worried that being on the ground floor would mean that our watchdog Emmy would go into overdrive and bark her head off every time some buttnut walked by talking on his cell phone. But she’s been fairly cool about the whole situation, generally only freaking out when someone actually comes in through our front gate and tries to deliver Swiss Chalet without her authorization.

Then last weekend, we had our french doors open to get some air and some kids were skateboarding on the boulevard next to our house. (Crazy homeowner aside: The brand new boulevard, which means we’re paying more property tax because of it.) Katr and I were in the office, working away and being annoyed by the riff raff, wondering if we were about to become the angry mean fat ladies on the corner who won’t let the kids have any fun.

And then, just as we were about to actually take some action, Emmy got up, went over to the door, poked her wrinkly face out and barked at the kids like it was her job. AND THEY LEFT.

That’s right, kids. There’s a new sheriff in town. A sheriff who smells of gym socks.

Good dog.