Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Dog: Free to Good Home, But Hey, If You Want to Torture Him.....

I have been working for 2 months......every night.........on my Millefiore Rosette #1.  It is not hard, really, just sewing by hand for night after night.  tiny needles, sticking my fingers, fumbling with the stupid thimble.  I hate thimbles.

I got the round finished last night.  I need one more round for it to be complete.  I keep telling myself, this is the largest one.  They get smaller after this.  Keep going, this one is the most work.  It will all be gorgeous when it is finished.

Yes.  That is what I say while I am working on it every night.  Every night.  You hear, Every night.

I go wash my hair.  Frank is home.  He comes to me when I am drying my hair and says he is leaving.  We briefly discuss where McGee is.  He is looking out the window.

Frank leaves.

Not three minutes pass.

And I walk out to this.

I am going to kill him.


Kill him.


I am not speaking to him.  And he knows it.

He keeps sitting in the middle of the room and looking at me.  I am not even going to show you his face.

There is Silence.  He is banished to the window in Frank's office.  If I put my eyes on him I am afraid I might kill him with Death Ray Lasers. 


  1. I can not defend him this time except to say that you know that he does these types of things so put things up high. Stelly tell me a version of this when Lilly tears up trash bags and spreads her "booty" all over my house. No, I can't take him...Leapaul wouldn't like him.

  2. Why can't he eat those UFO's that you don't like but feel compelled to finish? Bad, bad boy

  3. OMG! Apparently he was jealous of you spending so much time on that piece and not giving him the attention instead!

  4. I don't even know what to say. All that work just destroyed. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you!

  5. (sound of funeral music)
    Oh Mcgee how could you.
    I am remembering the Christmas of the tumbling block (granite stones) piecing. Every day and evening, while watching videos with dh, I stitched. In the car to museums I stitched. I had the blocks laid out and stitched... Oh I noticed Cole watching me. I figured he was just adoring me, as one does, but he was apparently trying to figure out why I was playing with that toy for so long. And it must have smelled of my fingers, I don't know or care. You know the end of the story, he ate three tumbling blocks with plastic templates and fabric before I reached him.
    Then there was the left dancing shoe. Ruining the pair. The next week he had the spare left dancing shoe, so both pair were kaput.
    I didn't speak to him for a week. What the fizzy??

    I'm crying with you feeling the despair over redoing the block!!!
    Not to be polyanna, is there anything you wanted to do differently? Now's the chance to tweak it... oy! Poor girl! Dang dog!


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