Oh and I forgot to mention . . . .

To add to my random funny shit:
Again for those that don't know me, I am the proud human of a mini wire-haired dachshund, Isabella (aka Izzy).  She is perhaps the world's most perfect dog.  Oops, she really doesn't like "d-word."  She is pretty much a little human that walks on all fours and is so damn cute!  I like her way better than I like most people.  I don't like people that don't like her.  I take her everywhere I can.  When I get to heaven she will go to restaurants with me.  None of this "No pets" business.  She is cleaner than some humans. She has a wardrobe, gets her nails painted and next week is getting her hair dyed!  Squeee!
Anywho, it seems that she has a problem with jealousy.  Izzy came to our home one year ago (well, almost) and she finds herself being the only hairy child in this house.  It seems that she really really really likes it that way.
Last week I was cat-sitting 3 little pumpkins for a friend.  One night I stopped by after work in my lovely work uniform.  And by lovely, I mean wool pants.  Yep, super duper lovely.  Oh and said pants are dry clean only! Which makes them even more super duper. But, the wool is somewhat stain resistant and water repellent, but only somewhat.  That night when I got home, Izzy was all smelling me and gave me "the look."  You know, the look that says: "Cheater!"
The next day I was putting away laundry and I picked my pants up off the bed and my feet got wet.  My first thought was "Huh, someone must have spilled something."  Then I realized the bed was wet too and it was yellow.  Uh-oh.  Then, I proceed to question Jake (my 5 yo son) since this is the spare bed where he sits to play wii. 
The convo went something like this:
M: "JACOB CLARK!"
J: "What?!"
M: "I know you really like playing Wii, but you have to remember to go pee in the potty and not let it leak through your pants."
J: "Mom, I didn't leak."
M: "Jake, you probably didn't realize."
J: "No mom, I really didn't"
M: "Are you sure?"
J: (starting to get tears in his eyes) "Yes."
M: "Hmmmmm, well I guess it could have been your sister (imply d-word here). 
I then peek into the hallway, as Jake runs for his life.  And see sweet, precious, perfect (pisser on mama's clothes) Izzy.  I swear she was smiling at me as turned and happily trotted away. 
She really doesn't like it that I played with, fed, and associated with those cats.