I have always known that my children were plotting my eventual demise. I was not aware until recently however, that their diabolical maneuvering extended into the animal kingdom. I am now fully convinced that every living, breathing creature around me is conspiring in an effort to make mommy lose her freaking mind. One may think that this line of thinking earns me a one-way ticket to the loony bin. But, allow me to make my case.
I watched one night before bed what I thought was a 20 minute belly-scratching lovefest between my kids and dogs. Adorable and innocent, right? Wrong. I now understand this must have been a covert, tactical meeting to devise a plan to drive mommy bat-shit crazy. I’m pretty sure the dialogue went something like this: "Ok, you two take the daylight hours. Make sure you have an urgent request in another room any time her butt makes contact with the sofa. Optimum striking zones include the kitchen and bathroom - but timing is key. We'll take the hours between midnight and 6:00a.m. Sleep deprivation is crucial. We'll insist on going outside every hour on the hour. We'll bark incessantly into the vast darkness of the backyard. This will play on her security fears. It won't be easy. But with hard work and determination, we can do this. If at any time you suspect you've been made, abort mission. Just grab her corkscrew and run!"
Innocent? Ha!
Crazy? I think not.
Need more evidence? What about the frogs? These slimy little bastards first appeared about a month ago. They first began their attack with the element of surprise. Jumping out at me anytime I walked out the door. Hiding under the trash cans. One even suctioned himself to the window of my car and hitched a ride. Then they began their nightly lullaby outside my bedroom window. I swear those damn things conjured up a symphony of toads with the solitary intention of waking this already sleep-deprived mom. Then they enlisted an accomplice – my son. He spends hours outside “playing with” and “capturing” frogs. Ha! More like and “scheming with” and “harboring” frogs. Yesterday, I left Jackson alone in the backyard hunting frogs for five minutes while I went to fold laundry. I left the sliding door open so I could listen for him. Anyone want to guess what happened next? That's right...a frog race in our family room. I found three and he says there were only three. Somehow, I don't feel assured. I’ve started searching my son like a TSA agent upon entering our house.
Conspiracy at its' finest.
Yes, you’re starting to believe me now aren’t you?
Still not convinced? Coastal living in Florida - one would think major concerns would be hurricanes, shark attacks, gators. Nope. Black bears. Specifically the family of black bears living directly behind my house. More specifically, the black bears my dogs chase out of the backyard every night. Fan-freaking-tastic! Yogi and pals have made quite an all-you-can-eat buffet from our trash. They have succeeded in breaking the “bear resistant” locking trashcans and chowing down in the wee hours. Of course, this has not gone unnoticed by the dogs. They are now seemingly on full alert, barking at every bump in the night, and forcing me to place them in headlocks and sleeper holds to quiet them. I know it is just a ploy. You can’t tell me they aren’t working together to invade my peaceful slumber. They must be back-up for the frogs.
(photo courtesy of Kristal Walsh)
The conspiracy is clear and supported by solid evidence. So, when the inevitable day comes where I am found locked in the closet, surrounded by empty wine bottles, rocking back and forth, eating frog legs and wrapped in a bear skin rug, you will have some background to give to the psychiatrist.
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