Just My Thighs Yoga: The Adventures of Puppy and the Maxi Pad

Before I begin this story, I would like to assure any male readers that this a gender friendly story. Um, mostly. "Maxi Pad" is a basset hound, who belongs to my husband's boss. We offered to watch him for a week while she was away on business. I believe his real name is Maximus, however his owner's 3 year old daughter will inform you that his last name is "Pad" thanks to some cajoling from a Canadian-Mexican uncle. I shall not name names, Abe.

So my story begins where the last yoga tragedy left off. I ordered a new yoga video, "Just my Size Yoga," and it arrived after a lengthy trip in the UPS truck, which I was thankful for. It sat on my desk for a good couple of days, where it taunted and frightened me. I finally decided one afternoon to give it a whirl. After all the only thing we have to fear is fear and health, right?

Now, it is a well known fact that I am not a dog person by nature. I had an encounter with a german shephard when I was 2 years old that gave me a life long aversion to dogs. But Maxi Pad is a different story. For one- he is not the brightest crayon in the box. In fact, he is a few dimes short of a nickel if you ask me. Very sweet, very loving, very lacking in intelligence. I have never personally owned a dog, so I never thought about what could happen when you attempt yoga in the same room with one. Max is pretty calm, so I wasn't too worried. That was my first mistake.

Enter "Puppy." Puppy is our rambunctious and psycho cat. She gained her name when her kitty personality resembled that of a dog. She plays fetch, she sits at the door and waits for us, and anytime I am gone for a length of time (or even just a quick bathroom trip) she acts like she hasn't seen me in years. I really can't stand the cat, but I don't have the heart to get rid of her. Yet.

Back to the story. I decide to give the new yoga video a try. I opened the dvd, popped it in the player, and prepared myself for the end of the world. I was really gunshy after the last yoga experience. As the video started, she talked about the positives of yoga and health benefits, and yadda yadda yadda. I wasn't going to believe it for a second. I know that yoga instructors are liars. Flexible liars. She seamlessly moved into the warm up, and I tenaciously began to try the moves. Meanwhile, Maxi Pad is lying on the couch (which he had peed on earlier that afternoon. 3 different cushions) and Puppy has found a bone that does not belong to her. Maxi Pad, being a good sport, gave her a little growl, but really didn't care. Or didn't understand. Either way, he was too comfy to make a move. As I am stretching and beginning to feel optimistic about the new yoga video, Puppy decided to carry the bone, in her mouth as a good catdog should, and sit on the couch next to Max and show off that she was licking his rawhide goodie. The problem with cats is that they have no idea that a bone is heavy. So about halfway across the living room, she drops the bone on the floor. Which I stepped on. OUCH!!!

I (gently) tossed the bone onto the couch next to Max and keep stretching. We are learning how to transition without killing yourself onto your knees, and because it is "Fat Girl Yoga" I can actually do 99% of what I am supposed to! This is great! I got reabsorbed into my new calming sport, when all of a sudden I hear a thud. The bone dropped on the floor. Puppy and Maxi Pad, both highly interested now, jump onto the floor where they each attempt to get the bone first. Our living room is not that big, so before I know it, I do a step back, in lunge formation, and I hear "MMMMEOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!" Whoops! Sorry Puppy! I pause the dvd, pick her up and love on her for a minute, then start the dvd back up while she goes into the kitchen to see Matt, my husband. He's a sucker for animals, and she knows it.

Now, animals are much like kids, especially when it comes to all things being fair and equal. I had loved on Puppy, and now Max assumed it was his turn. So as I am in an unflattering wide stance, he comes up under me and starts nuzzling my thighs. I am not comfortable with this sort of attention. I have read Leviticus, people, and no good can come from a an animal nuzzling the netherlands. Not even if his name is Maxi Pad.

So I tried to shoo him away, while determined to keep yoga-ing. I told him "go lay down," and "go get your bone." But nothing seemed to distract this dog. He kept nuzzling. I had to stop the dvd again, sit on the floor, and rub his belly before he tried to rub mine.

Finally, he laid contentedly on the floor, and I got back to the work out. It really wasn't too bad, folks! I stretched out on the floor, proud that I was over 75% done with the workout, and I hadn't passed out or pulled anything yet! Until Puppy raced back into the living room and decided that Max's floppy basset hound ears would make a great chew toy. You know how on old cartoons, anytime there's a fight, it's a ball of wind and dust and the occasional limb? That's pretty much what happened. They rolled on the floor, gnawing and yapping at each other. Now, not being well versed in the animal kingdom, I had no idea they were both playing and it was totally harmless. All I visualized was my husband's boss arriving to pick up a basset hound with only one long ear. So I picked up the cat, Max lunged for her, and knocked us all back onto the floor. Where I landed on a bone. No offense, but we all understand that bones in the butt are never comfortable.

I yelled for Matt to separate me from the animals, and just like Dr. Doolittle, he snapped his fingers and 2 angelic animals raced to his feet and on his lap and settled down. Sheesh. I turned off the TV, grabbed a bag of frozen peas for my rumpus, and finished the session with my usual diet coke and 4 advil.

For the record, I actually have a long standing history with Puppies and Maxi Pads. Although I have never owned a dog, I have had years of experience with maxi pads. One of the joys of motherhood was explaining the application of one while 3 toddlers (who were 3, 2, and 1 at the time) watched with wide eyes because they had picked the bathroom lock with a toy airplane and caught me. I told them it was a "Mommy Diaper" and the kids said "OK" and left. I never gave it a second thought. Till 4 years later.

I wish I could tell you I had the imagination to make this one up, but credit for what you are about to read and see must be given to our son, Tim.
One night, he was in the bathroom messing around when he was supposed to be asleep, and I heard him rattling paper. I yelled across the house "GO TO BED!!!"

"Ok, mom. In a minute!" If you have had the pleasure of meeting Tim, you know that the child is a thinker and a schemer. (maybe a little like his mom?) Anyhoo, I didn't believe him for a second.

I yelled again, "GO TO BED, TIMOTHY!"

He walked out of his room with his hands behind his back. THAT is never a good sign.

"Sorry, Mom, but Pumpkin Pie Puppy (his beloved stuffed animal) needed a diaper, so I just used yours."

A picture is worth a thousand words.

3 pictures equals BLACKMAIL.