So it begins.
Remember yesterday when I resisted the urge to rant and rave about how much I hate contractors? Well, I think it paid off because guess what happened:
The contractor called last night and said he was going to be coming this morning. After I guffawed loudly, I realized he was in earnest. He said he was planning to be here around 8:30am. He was wrong about that.
He was here at 7:30am.
He also brought with him his little white dog. Not sure what kind it is except that it's little and white, like a Bichon Frise only not as poofy. This annoyed me. I know people bring their dogs to job sites but I really would have thought that maybe they would ask the homeowner if it was all right.
But whatever. I can and will deal because that's what I do.
But it made me cranky. Then Joe told me not to be cranky about it. This had the adverse effect of making me even crankier. But of course it did, right?
Then, after searching high and low for the little white dog running at large through the neighborhood and, in particular, my yard, I had to take Big outside because we never did litter box train that dog. Seems like an oversight on our part now. The little white dog was nowhere to be found. Joe and I and Big walked all the way around the house so that Big could see the work and realize that we were okay with it and thus, he could be okay with it as well.
So we talked with the contractor and Big greeted him all right and we walked around the yard together while Joe and the contractor talked about whatever they talked about. And then Big, who I guess was feeling pretty good about himself, decided to mouth the contractor's arm.
I. Was. Not. Amused.
There was yelling involved. The contractor said it was done just in play and it may have been because Big was quite jaunty and he does the same thing to me and Joe when he's trying to get one of us to play with him but still.
We. Do. NOT. Mouth. Strangers. Or people with whom we've just made an acquaintance. Especially people who are in the process of digging rather large holes in the backyard.
So we went back inside. Then I yelled some more. The second bout of yelling was really to make me feel better as Big no longer had any idea why I was so damn irritated with him.
And the morning continued.
The dogs started barking at the contractor and the backhoe that was ripping up their yard so I went to step outside on the deck to show the dogs that since I wasn't concerned about what was happening that they didn't need to be concerned either.
This was when the Gator Girl attacked Big. Hard and fast and unrelenting, the way the Gator Girl does. Cue yelling. Cue lots and lots of yelling.
I disciplined the Gator Girl and checked Big over and he seemed all right so we went in the office so I could attempt to work. I know from experience that when work's being in this yard or next door to us, and strange men are walking around making lots of noise, that I won't get much done because the majority of the day will be spent making the dogs shut the hell up.
I sat down in my chair and looked down. My feet were spattered with something. Little specks of something. At first, I thought it was dirt because dirt is everywhere right now. The nature of serious yard work, you understand. So I tried brushing the little specks off my feet but they didn't move. Upon closer inspection, I realized they were red little specks.
My first thought then was "Is that a rash? Do I have some kind of rash? Great. Now I have a frakking rash on my feet."
But then I realized it wasn't a rash. It was blood. Big's blood.
Damn ear injuries. Those things just never stop bleeding. They bleed and bleed and bleed and then the dog shakes his head and blood flies everywhere. I've blogged about that before. About the whole chainsaw massacre look that walls have when this happens. This time was no different except that it was spread from one end of my house to the other because I had moved the whole big happy party down to my office because when I checked Big's ear back in the ;iving room, it hadn't yet filled with blood.
And a lot of blood there was. I went through an entire tree's worth of paper towels trying to clean it out. The Gator Girl didn't put a hole through his ear but I think she came close. It really looks horrible right now but the bleeding has at least slowed down enough to allow it to clot.
Oh good. A chainsaw is now running. Sounds like they're getting ready to cut down the stumps they aren't pulling right out of the ground. You'd really think that after watching/listening to Marie's garage project for the last two years (yes, that's right years.), my dogs would be pretty well immune to construction sounds. But no, they're both running for the sliding glass doors, losing their minds. You know what that means...
Another fight is on its way. Better get the gauze.