A Maelee is sort of like its word of origin, melee, except it's caused by Mae. Or maybe it should be a Haelee, since Mae's boss bitch alter ego Hazel has likely instigated it.
Last night I walked into a Maelee when I got home instead of the typical howling dog ruckus that greets me every time I open the door. Gus and Geege came over to tell on Mae, who was by the entertainment center growling...to protect her open jar of peanut butter.
How the hell did they get an open jar of peanut butter?
I won't lie, I thought MFD left in a hot hurry with the peanut butter open and accessible to these scavengers. Then I walked into the kitchen, saw the pantry open, found the lid to the jar in the dining room, and called MFD in disbelief.
In the 20 minutes between MFD leaving the house and me walking in the door, these ahole dogs opened the pantry, got a jar of peanut butter off the second shelf, opened it (like, unscrewed the top, not bit into it) in the dining room, and brought the jar into the living room where Hazel was lording over it like the Wicked Queen of Skippy.
I know they can tell time, but now they act like they have thumbs? Was this a three amigos team effort? Did they use the furniture as a tool? Did Tuesday use its black magic on their behalf? Was it the old man from Scooby Doo? Did aliens help? So many questions...I need them to start talking.
As we were about to board a cruise ship years ago, I texted my brother Stephen who was watching the dogs and asked him how it was going. He replied, "Gus is awful to sleep with, he thinks this is his bed." I asked if he was sleeping in our bed. He was. I texted back, "That IS his bed."
When we first got Gus as a puppy almost 10 years ago, he was meant to sleep in his crate. I passed out after Michelle's block party and woke up in the middle of the night to an empty crate and puppy Gus sleeping on MFD's chest. The next few nights, I tried to put Gus back in the crate but it never worked. He slept in our bed and as the other dogs joined the family, they did too.
Before we go any further, this is not the place to comment about how you don't agree with dogs on the bed. No one currr for that opinion here.
That being said, dog bedtime at our house is absolutely a circus of our own creation.
They know what bed means, and when I say it Mae cannot launch herself up the stairs fast enough. Geege is slow going and Gus needs a little help getting onto the landing sometimes.
Once upstairs, Geege needs to be told to get up up. Mae and Gus go nuts with bones for a while as soon as they get on the bed. If there are bones on bedside tables or under furniture, they will want those bones and not the zillions of bones they have scattered all over the bed. Mae growls like crazy at anyone who comes near her bone and has to be told to stop eleventy billion times.
Geege has no time for bones, but he has plenty of time to lay facing the door so he can stare at it and guard the rest of us, barking out of a dead sleep when appropriate.
Gus typically gets down to investigate something downstairs or get some water. When he comes back up, he needs to be picked up from the side of the bed, always a precarious situation but one that enables me to do it without actually getting out of bed. He's ready to settle in for the night and will assume his position at the bottom of the bed in between my feet. Geege will lay on the other side.
When Mae is finished growling at Gus, Geege, and MFD, she lays down by her brothers until Gus moves to get her off of him, then she comes and licks my face to say goodnight before retreating under the covers for a while. She inevitably emerges to lay on one of our pillows so she can stare at me like a little creep. She can move around, but when other dogs or humans move, she barks ferociously.
The dogs rotate positions throughout the night, and sometimes I wake up with the two boy dogs laying next to my left leg and Mae laying next to my right, all stretched out. It's like the freaking dogs are a chalk outline of my body.
And of course if you've read this blog for a while, you know that Gus is the President of the A-hole Wakeup Committee on weekends but none of them can be bothered to be up and out of bed on weekdays. Must be nice, suckers.
Mother, we don't get up on Tuesday mornings. Leave us be.
And those are the dog bedtime rituals at our house.
Oh dear. This is it. My mother told me it's time to leave my mark in words. I much prefer to mark my territory in other ways, always have and always will, but I digress.
I'm not much for the spotlight. I prefer to sit behind Gus and the new girl and let them take center stage. Too much attention makes me nervous.
I'm Geege. That's gee like gee whiz, followed by juh. It was a made up nickname but now it's just my name.
My parents adopted me from a nice family who called me Jake. I came to live with my Mom and Dad in May 2007. For the first week, I sat at the window and barked. For the next six months, I sat on the couch or the floor and warily surveyed the situation. After that period of reconnaissance, I decided to actually sit on the couch next to my people. I've never regretted it. I will always appreciate them not rushing me...letting me feel out the situation and be a part of the family when I was ready. Gus? He appointed me his lackey from the moment we met. It might sound like a raw deal for me, but we are very very very best friends and have been from the minute I walked into that tiny apartment.
These are my roles: protecting my people to make sure this kingdom is guarded and on lock down at all times, following my mom around the house to make sure she's doing everything up to code, and refereeing Gus and the new sister. My command center is the front window, but the front door and basement level sliding doors are my posts as well. How do I do performance-wise? I'm a super hero, and that's not a brag. I take my duties very seriously.
Even Spider-Man has fears. I'm afraid of loud noises like booms and things that crackle and light up the sky and make my mom yell "Enough fireworks, you assholes!" out of our windows. Loud noises make me shake and cry and have earned me the nickname Heebie Jeebie. Sometimes I have to hide under the bed. Other times I like to crawl under the bed just because I can be a weird guy.
The burdens of guarding my people and fellow canines as well as overseeing the running of our kingdom tire me out. When I sleep, I burrow into my people and I sleep hard. I've earned it because I've been patrolling all day. You can tell I'm tired when my tongue is out. My mom says I'm the cutest sleeping dog ever.
My life isn't all guard work. When I take a vacation, I prefer to visit places where I can run free, free like the wind! My soul bursts out of my body and carries me through Treat Lady's woods like I am a puppy instead of a 10 year old. I also enjoy romps along the beach. When I'm on vacation I can show my free spirit who likes to chase butterflies and gets distracted easily, running from one thing to the next with adrenaline and pure joy.
At home, I take my breaks in the sun. I love to go on walks and be outside, roll in the grass and run free in the fields by my house when no one else is around. It's important to appreciate the small things in life. Especially when you have a good one like I do - freedom to roam, tons of belly rubs, vacations, people who love me, siblings to play with, being allowed to sleep in a big bed with my head on pillows like a person, an important role as guard and protector, tons of toys I rarely play with, food I bark insistently for every day and cheeseburgers on my birthday. Life is good. And my mom calls me her best boy every day.
I don't have much else to say. I'm just a soulful guy trying to live a noble life. Don't be sad if you see me looking concerned in photos - I'm just always more concerned about you than I am about me.
I'm very soft and easy to love and I have endless love to give. Kisses too even though I'm told my breath smells like buttholes. Mom, what's a butthole again?
Tomorrow my mother will be back and my Auntie Debbie is giving bracelets and earrings away. I heard ladies like those.
In service and good stead always -
Geege aka TeeTee aka GeeJosh aka Tatie aka Gee-kah-baba aka Genie aka Tahtita
Did you know Missy Elliott wrote that song for me? I'm Maisel, and I'm here to tell you all about me. I can sum it up best by saying it's all about me. When I don't get my way, or when I get a wild hair up my ass, my alter ego Hazel will terrorize everyone and everything in sight like a tiny devil. Like Queen Bey says, Who runs the world? Girls.
I'm 11 pounds of pure firecracker. I use all my weight to bulldoze everything in my path. I lure you in with my tiny stature, batting my eyes and holding my dainty little spotted paw up. You think I'm bashful and sweet, so you lean down and boom! I jump up and bite you on the nose because I need to keep the people on their toes. Do you see my Hazel eyes? Homie don't play.
Most days I bebop around, looking for things to get into. I'm intensely interested in everything. I just got here at the end of August and I've been trying to take over since. I tear ass around like a wild jackal, going as fast as I can on my tiny little legs, knocking blankets and pillows off couches, putting things in my mouth and shaking the bejesus out of them. I get moody sometimes, and that sounds like this:
Things are awesome here in my new home - I have the run of the house, the food is tops, they leave the TV on for us, and my clothes befit my scrappy diva status. I also have these brothers now. I really really want to be their best friend, but since I just turned four and they're older, I don't think they're ready for this jelly. I bullied Geege into letting make my debut here today before him. Bitches get what they want! King Gus already left his mark here.
I love my new parents. The Lady runs this house. Who runs the world? Girls. When she says something to me, I slow my roll because she's in charge. I try to stay on her good side but she does not like Hazel at all. I don't get it. Bitches unite! Can I get a hell yeah?
The Father is wrapped around my finger and lets me do whatever I want because I am small and cute and he wants a dog that likes him the best. Plus he picked me up from my old house and loved me when I was very smelly and had skin conditions. The Lady feeds me coconut oil and I am a fine sleek machine now. I like to commune with them both very closely even though lots of times The Father swoops in and takes me away from The Lady because he wants his own dog and the brothers flock to The Lady like bookends.
Like all self-respecting females, I have rules for living.
Rule one: Listen carefully. Do not F with me when I'm sleeping or in a vegetative state. I used to sleep on a crate pad in a kitchen, and now these people have bought me an enormous king sized bed because they know it's what a diva deserves. If you come near me when I'm sleeping, I will growl and I may cut a bitch! Who's house? MAE'S HOUSE. And sometimes RUN'S HOUSE. Much love to you Rev Run.
Rule two: All the things are mine.
What else? I am an insinuator like Gus, and if you move me from where I want to be I will scramble right back there cause baby there ain't no mountain high enough to keep me from getting to you. Otherwise, play with me, treat me like the diva I am, and let me sleep on top of you for warmth and we'll be solid.
I didn't choose the pug life. The pug life chose me. The people think I'm a pug/Boston mix but I know what I am: Maisel, the one and only tiny tower of terror.
Tomorrow The Lady is back and she has some announcements and a giveaway. Come back tomorrow or Hazel will be all up in your grill.
Peace out -
Mae Mae Cray Cray aka Maisie aka Mae aka MeMa aka Maisel
