AREASONABLEVOLUME.COM

Target On My Back

caserracer — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 01:05:10 GMT

So I was highlighting Aunt Taffy's hair today when across my yard wobbled a dirty, wounded raccoon. In broad daylight. It crawled under my deck, presumably to die. As I searched for the number for animal control it limped back out from under the deck. I called animal control and waited forty minutes.
The raccoon spent 15 solid minutes standing at my birdbath getting one heck of a drink. Then it slowly washed its wounded paws, slowly went and sat under a tree and slowly lumbered off to my back fence where it eventually made it up and over. About ten minutes later, animal control showed up and I told her everything about the odd behavior and sad state of this scraggly critter.
I found it odd that a car pulled up next to the truck and didn't go by, but I ignored it and finished my story. The animal control officer got ready to go look for the raccoon and I noticed one of the seven or eight feral cats in our neighborhood at my front stoop. I turned back and said, "Oh, yeah, and we seem to have some cats wandering around!"
As animal control drove off, Rosie Perez's voice double hopped out of the suspicious car and started yelling at me for calling animal control about the cats. She said I shouldn't have any problems with them. I incredulously responded to the lady shrieking at me in the street that I do have a problem when they poop all over my yard.
I was so overtaken with respect for this obviously intelligent woman when she gave me her profound response: "They don't poop! It was probably your own @$$!"-- as her tweenage son stood begging her to stop and get out of the street (where she was blocking the path of a schoolbus). I sure wish I could be as classy as her. Maybe someday. In the meantime, I hope the rabid raccoon bites her in her hateful mouth.

CL

Last Post Added 53 Days Ago

caserracer — Wed, 05 Oct 2011 14:18:44 GMT

So, I've been in a funk of nothing to write about. E has been out of town so often that I have forgotten how to cohabitate and it's made me lose my writing mojo. Nobody wants to read about me being lonely.
All I have today is a short little story about Baby Duck. She likes to go to Cinzetti's and begs almost every night to go there. Last night I told her we could eat there because on Tuesday nights kids eat free. She then asked me why grown ups never eat free. Before I could speak, she answered her own question: "Oh, I know: It's because kids' meals are cheaper so they don't lose as much money that way."
Seriously, what 6 year old thinks like that??

CL

Blog = Dream Journal

caserracer — Sat, 13 Aug 2011 14:15:02 GMT

It was the middle of the night and I was running late for work. I was waiting tables in a dark cathedral with lots of stairs and I could not find the floor chart, so I had no idea what tables I was supposed to have. Eventually I made my way into the kitchen where I noticed how cold the floor was. I looked down to discover I was barefoot. I had left my shoes in the car. Just as I was about to go get them, Teeny Bear came running through the pews of what was now my childhood church wearing all parts of two different uniforms. She was in a hurry because she had been scheduled at both Steak 'N' Shake and Pizza Street for the same shift. She was going to try to do both without anyone noticing. I woke up wondering which restaurant required that she wear a kilt.

CL

Midnight Snack

caserracer — Mon, 08 Aug 2011 13:22:01 GMT

Teeny Bear was over last night and we got hungry around midnight. We were raiding the kitchen with no success when Teeny Bear and I both spot a giant moth landing on the counter. Just as we are commenting on how large and disgusting it is, it takes flight and makes a beeline for Teeny Bear. Out of surprise she flinched and cowered away before it turned toward me. My sleep-deprived brain wanted to protect Teeny Bear from something that had frightened her, but the plan of attack was not fully formed when the moth flew right at me. I clapped my hands together sharply. Suddenly the moth was gone. We looked at each other and I slowly opened my hands. I am apparently secretly a ninja, because there in my hands was a confused looking moth breathing its last breath. Moth innards and wing dust were all over my palms. My brain caught up to what had happened as I looked at Teeny Bear and said, "I'm going to throw up."

CL

Dream

caserracer — Wed, 03 Aug 2011 12:55:34 GMT

My aunt Taffy and I were out and about when we decided to stop by my aunt Sissy and uncle T's house. My mom was already there practicing her sign language. Taffy and I had just cracked open a beer (which is the strangest part of this dream if you knew how utterly unfathomable it would be to find beer in Sissy and T's fridge!) when in walks my tattoo artist. He has come to purchase the smartphone T has put on Craigslist.
Then my alarm went off.

CL

It's Not What You Think

caserracer — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 14:57:03 GMT

Ladybug is a very picky eater. She refuses most any food that isn't chicken nuggets, cheese pizza, plain bread or cinnamon Pop Tarts. It is to the point that I am starting to seriously fear for her nutrition despite the vitamin supplements.
The other night I took a risk by choosing to take the girls to a restaurant that did not have chicken nuggets on the menu. We went to a Japanese steakhouse. I wanted to do something special for Skittles while she's in town-- and thought to myself, 'well, maybe the entertainment of it all will get Ladybug to try something new'. I did not believe myself for even a second, though.
But she ate! She shoveled fried rice into her mouth with a smile. She caught a shrimp and didn't spit it out- in fact, she announced that she likes shrimp! She ate her chicken and told me she liked the juice on it (aka teriyaki). She even got curious enough about the funny bottle on the table to try some soy sauce. It was quite possibly the most exciting moment of my life.
We went to my father-in-law's for dinner last night. With a beer in my hand, I started to tell my steakhouse story.
"I have a very special announcement to make," I started. My in-laws froze simultneously and waited with baited breath for the next words they thought they would hear. That's when I realized. With a self-mocking laugh, I said, "No, no! I'm not! I was just going to tell you Ladybug ate!" They didn't look convinced, so I even pointed out the beer in my hand. Then I made some sort of awkward joke about how E hadn't even been home in two months, at which my father-in-law almost choked to death on nothing in particular.
So, in short, I'm not pregnant. But I am proud to announce the arrival of a beautiful redheaded 3 year old who will actually try a new food in a restaurant. I believe congratulations are in order...

CL

Long Lost Blogger

caserracer — Fri, 24 Jun 2011 16:04:49 GMT

I don't think I have ever gone on hiatus for this long from posting. My life got very disorganized for a while. I went on a super little birthday trip that involved lots of shopping and Starbucks and mustaches drawn on fingers. My Baby Duck refused to pull a tooth that had been loose for months became a member of the "Dental Floss and Doorknob" Club, which may be one of the most horrifying things I have ever come home to. But that was good, because it helped me make a decision I had been needing to make for months: I am needed at home. It is time for me to stop juggling minimal hours for a minimal paycheck all while driving almost 30 minutes to get there (not counting the driving to take the kids to Nana's). I think I just worked for gas money to get to work as it was. So as of Sunday, I am a stay at home mom again. I am so excited to focus on getting my home back in order-- it has been starting to look as cluttered and chaotic as the inside of my head!!

I'm Not Dead

caserracer — Mon, 23 May 2011 23:39:36 GMT

It's been a chaotic month, for sure. I miss writing, but what do you write about after such an absence? So I continued to deem my life experiences too boring to publish. But I have hit the point where I have something that bothered me based on principle so badly that I have to vent.
I went looking for a new pair of khakis for work at Old Navy today. The overall shopping experience was pleasant- nothing to complain about. I was even pleased when I did not get pestered to open a credit card with them at the register. But then, after I had paid, it happened: a survey printed out. I was happy to take the survey and report on my good experience... then the cashier wrote her name on my receipt so I could "say something good about" her, which was mildly grating but nothing I would complain about. What happened next goes against roughly 14 years of employment in the customer service industry:
She told me that I needed to make sure to give them all nines and tens as she wrote '9 &10!' on the top of the receipt!!!! She even went one step further and told me (and also wrote down for me) that eights or below gave them a zero score!!!!
Now (as usual) I have not one, but two problems with this.
1) Really?!?! The survey your company gives me has a ten point scale they make me choose from, implying they want a very precise answer, but then invalidate 80% of my options without my knowlege?!?!
2)Whether or not that is really what happens, you honestly wrote instructions all over my receipt on how to score you on something that is supposed to be anonymous and honest? Do you really suck so bad- or have so little respect for my actual opinion- that you have to tell me to give you great scores?
I was completely insulted. Does that make me crazy?

CL

Not Cool, Man

caserracer — Mon, 25 Apr 2011 20:00:00 GMT

My girls and I were having a pretty decent rainy day. Stopped at Mickey D's to get nuggets for Ladybug so Baby Duck and I could indulge in some Five Guys. Nothing like fresh jalapenos on a Little Bacon Burger! Yum!
Then we went to Old Navy to check out their awesome spring sale. I was finding lots of great deals and life was good. Then we went to the restroom, where I finally committed the only clumsy act on the planet I had not previously been guilty of: my phone slipped out of my pocket. Into the toilet. The public bathroom auto-flushing toilet.
I watched it disappear in horror, then had a moment of delight when the toilet began to refill and I saw it pop back out of the pipe. Baby Duck immediately leaned in to grab it. As soon as she dunked her arm, the sensor went off and the toilet flushed again. Frak. Surprisingly, she got ahold of it... but she couldn't get it out. So I had to try my luck. I grabbed for it and the toilet flushed. I got a grip on it and it flushed again. That is when I discovered the reason it had not disappeared permanently: it was the exact right size and shape to be stuck right there in the bottom of the toilet. I twisted and turned; the toilet flushed. I reached up to cover the sensor and it flushed one last time before I blocked it- which was just enough for the toilet to overflow. Nice. Big fun.
I got it out and dried it under the hand dryer. Again in taunted me, this time by spending the next fifteen minutes trying over and over to boot itself up before the screen went white. I started frantically pushing buttons, hoping for a miracle. Then I heard the death rattle as the phone went dark for good. I considered the bag of rice trick, only to decide to not even bother- the camera lens had moisture behind it and the screen looked like a flattened lava lamp. We don't bother with a landline at home, so spending 24-48 hours hoping for a miracle when I could just go to WalMart and replace it seemed ridiculous. So the new one is now charging while I write this, getting ready to set it up.
The Silver Lining: while we were in WalMart, Baby Duck found the Flynn Rider doll to go with her Rapunzel that she had been looking for, so she got to spend her birthday money. Yay!

CL

5 and 364/365

caserracer — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 13:36:00 GMT

♪♫Hush little baby, don't say a word, Mama's gonna buy you a bocking dird....♫♪

This is what I hear Ladybug singing as she looks at a sticker book next to me. Apparently, the Mama in question went on to buy Baby a "nothing, nothing" and a "head for a costume". And then the dog let out an SBD. What a morning.

So, Baby Duck is going to be 6 years old tomorrow. I am not ready for her to be so big. In a month she won't even be a kindergartner anymore! She's going to have a number in her grade next year!!
As I dropped her off at school this morning, I told her to enjoy her last day of being 5. She responded, "Mom, I don't want to be 5 anymore, anyway."
She sounds just like me as a kid. In such a hurry to be grown. We already had a small battle when purchasing this year's swimsuit. She wanted a "split one" because she wanted to "look older". Based only on the virtues of being able to easily take a bathroom break in a two-piece, I acquiesced. But only a little. She wanted a bikini. I allowed her to choose a tankini.

I have several pregnant friends that may be reading this, as well as a few new moms. Enjoy every moment. Every tear, every mess, every moment. It's all a blink of an eye...

CL

Exhausted From The Inside Out

caserracer — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 13:21:00 GMT

There is a direct correlation between how badly a person needs coffee and how badly that person is going to screw up in attempting to make said coffee. Today I was momentarily confused to see only clear liquid in the coffee pot. Was the 'on' button lit up? Yes. Had I put in a filter and grounds? Yes. Did I... oh. Yeah. Forgot to pour the water into the machine. Time to put on the dunce cap and sit in the corner and blog while I wait for the coffee to actually brew.
I told E the other day that I was so tired, I felt like I could sleep for a week and still wake up tired. I don't think it's physical exhaustion. I think it's deeper than that. That tends to happen to me when I think I've got everything under control.
Here is a brief list of lies I realize I was telling myself:
Months since I have seen Skittles (a.k.a. the Munchkin)? Eh, talking on the phone is close enough.
Teeny Bear going to prom the same year as my baby brother? That doesn't turn my brain inside out THAT bad.
Ladybug looks 2 years older with her new haircut? No matter; I'm fully ready for my baby to grow up.
Baby Duck wants to have a slumber party for her birthday with 6 of her closest friends? That'll be easier than inviting the entire class to Chuck E. Cheese or something.
E has to go out of town on a moment's notice? It's been that way for a long time... surely it's not getting worse...
We're shorthanded at work and they need me to fill in? That's okay, my house won't fall down without me...
No wonder sleep isn't helping...

CL

Say What You Mean And Mean What You Say

caserracer — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 03:07:00 GMT

For a long time (read: years) I have struggled off an on with epic bedtime battles. Generally my oldest, Baby Duck, is the primary issue with only slight occasional backup from Ladybug.
Tonight, after a two hour battle, I finally went in their room and laid down the law. "Go. To. Bed. Do not come out of your room again FOR ANY REASON!!!"
Baby Duck immediately delivered her usual rebuttal: "But what if we have to go to the bathroom?"
Tonight my immense frustration took over and she got a different answer. "Just pee the bed, then! Goodnight!"
Not ten minutes later, Ladybug (a.k.a. Miss Literal) did it.
Mmmm, crow. Tasty.

CL

Dance Class: The Good, The Bad And The Ugly

caserracer — Mon, 14 Mar 2011 23:27:00 GMT

What an eventful evening at dance! This was the first week that I tried not standing at the window watching (Ladybug gets extremely distracted by my presence). To keep myself busy in the waiting room, I decided to clean out and organize my purse. I was discarding expired coupons when it happened: I got attacked by the crazy coupon lady-- and I liked it! Sure, I had to pretend I didn't know how to layer store coupons with manufacturer's coupons, but she worked for the local paper, so she knew the ins and outs of all the inserts that come in the Sunday paper. I got a great deal on having the Sunday paper delivered (since I had been planning on starting to get it anyway, so why not buy it from the fellow dance mom?), plus a two inch thick stack of coupon inserts from this week! The coupons she gave me will more than reimburse me for the entire six months I paid for! That was the good.
Now for the bad: Baby Duck couldn't find her street shoes in her cubby when it was time to switch from tap shoes to ballet shoes. The teacher was kind enough to automatically search everyone else's bag so I didn't have to ask, but unfortunately they were nowhere to be found. I told the teacher to go ahead and continue with class; we could scour the room after the hour was up. I was looking around the lobby when one of the other moms asked what they looked like. I described them and she said she thought she saw one of the dads with that pair of shoes in his hand, but he had gone out to his car. When he came back, he had no shoes in his hand. I continued looking around, even asking at the front desk if anyone had turned them in. The girl at the counter sent me to dig through the lost and found box that I had already looked through. I went to go look again, trying to passively make the man aware that I was in fact looking for my daughter's shoes, when the woman who had seen him with them started asking him about them. He seemed to have a difficult time with English, so she had to repeat it several times. Finally, he went out to his car and came back with them. I thanked him, playing it off as though he surely must have just thought they belonged to his daughter. Baby Duck was confused how that guy had them, but happy to have them back. She had been crying quite a bit since they were some brand new spring/summer canvas flats I had just bought her. The man's daughter seemed to look as though she had thought she was getting new shoes and now wasn't.
Then it almost got ugly. The man must have turned on his Rosetta Stone CD when he went out to his car, because suddenly English wasn't giving him any trouble. He pointed aggressively at Baby Duck's feet, noting the gap at the heel.
"Those are too big for her!" he said aggressively. Really? My jaw dropped. Was this guy actually going to try to steal the shoes again, and this time directly off my daughter's feet? I took a moment to look at him incredulously.
"Yes, they're new, so they're a bit big. Girls, get your coats on." I turned my back, gathered my kids and left. The mom who busted him was shortly behind me, so at least I was able to thank her in the parking lot and leave before I got myself into trouble.

CL

I Am Not A Fan Of Goats

caserracer — Sun, 06 Mar 2011 14:37:00 GMT

Another senseless bad dream that I can't stop replaying in my head, so I'm going to purge it here:
I was having a perfectly nice day with my husband until it was announced that it was time to get the goat. I had no idea what he was talking about, as we had not discussed a goat in any capacity. We arrived home to find my best friend with an adolescent goat on our porch. I was horrified. He kept staring at me with his yellow goat eyes.
"Hello, Iggus!" E said to the goat. Crap. He had already named him. This was not a joke. I didn't want to cause a scene in front of my best friend, who obviously had no idea that I was not a part of this decision. I tried to keep it together, but all I kept thinking about was I know I grew up in the country, but I don't have any idea what to do with a goat! I don't know what they are even supposed to eat! I know they WILL eat anything, but that doesn't have anything to do with what they SHOULD eat. Oh, great. This goat is going to eat all my stuff. Where do you even keep a goat? I have no idea what to even do with him while I go get supplies! I doubt my nylon dog leash is going to hold him for very long... He looks like the devil. He is going to hurt my dog. I can't trust him near my dog. Why on earth would we ever want a goat? Maybe I'll get lucky and some coyote will come eat him. Well, that won't work, either. I don't want coyotes anywhere near my dog, either. At this point I was so stressed out I barely noticed that a raccoon was being thrown into the mix for no charge. I needed some air. I went outside and was soon followed by E. He finally asked how I felt about the goat. I swore a lot and yelled about all the things I was angry about. I told him I absolutely hated it and did not want a goat. When I was done, he asked if we could keep the goat. I told him to do whatever he wanted. So we got a goat named Iggus.
I am still mad at him.

CL

How To Repair A DVD Player

caserracer — Tue, 01 Mar 2011 00:37:00 GMT

Step 1. Push buttons
Step 2. Bang on it
Step 3. Bang on it harder
Step 4. Unplug it
Step 5. Plug it back in
Step 6. Remove 'Cars' DVD
Step 7. Pull it out of its cubby to inspect hookups
Step 8. Notice unusual sound
Step 9. Identify sound
Step 10. Turn DVD Player upside down
Step 11. Remove 'Madagascar 2' DVD
Step 12. Shake gently
Step 13. Repeat Steps 8-10
Step 14. Remove 'Meet the Robinsons' DVD
Step 15. Repeat Steps 12 and 13
Step 16. Remove random Christian comedy DVD that belongs to your parents that you thought you lost
Step 17. Ensure no more sounds occur when DVD Player is shaken
Step 18. Reinsert 'Cars' DVD
Step 19. Press play
Step 20. Write a blog entry

CL

I Have No Title For This Post.

caserracer — Wed, 16 Feb 2011 18:24:00 GMT

So, it was a bit of a foggy morning here, to say the least. I don't understand why that does not automatically mean "turn on your headlights" to some of the people on the road. I mean, it was thick enough to conceal buildings. I pulled into the Target parking lot beginning to wonder why the scene before me was so empty, only to watch the store suddenly rise out of the mist like Brigadoon. If I can't see a giant concrete building with a big red sign, chances are I'm not going to see your gray Buick either, dude. Do they not notice when they can't see another car who also has their headlights off? Does that not make them think, "Gee, maybe I need to make sure mine are on!"? This is one of the little things that really bothers me, along with unintentionally leaving your blinker on in a situation that causes me to be concerned that at any moment you may suddenly shift into my lane.
Moving on...
While waiting for my dental appointment today, Ladybug was looking at a book that had a cartoon skunk and raccoon on the cover. She points and says, "Look, Mom! A Stunk!" I giggled, then said, "Yes, that is called a sKunk." "Yeah, Mom! A sTunk!" Well, I guess it's a bit hard to argue with that one.

CL

NetiPothead

caserracer — Fri, 11 Feb 2011 15:57:00 GMT

I have spent the last few years watching in horror as more and more people I know started the terrifying practice of sinus irrigation. I imagined them singing "I'm a Little Teapot" as they prepared their saltwater concoction: "♪Tip! me over and pour. me. outgrthphflpllbblthsgarfck!!!!!" I could not ever imagine being so sick that I would finally resort to drowning myself.
Then it happened. I got sick enough to prefer drowning rather than exploding as my method of death. I went to the store and let my girls help me pick one out. I wanted them to choose so they might be more comfortable with trying it themselves. We got home and I encouraged my daughters to watch. I am the type of person who really hates to show weakness to others, so I figured I couldn't be a wimp about it if I had little eyes on me. I bravely made my first attempt. The strangest thing about it was that it didn't feel strange in the way that I expected. Even when I made an error in proper head positioning, the bit that tried to go down my throat did not cause the sensation of eminent death that I expected. And then I stood upright, blew my nose and... breathed!! Through my nose! For the first time in days! This sort of instant gratification was enough to make me an addict the first time out of the gate. No waiting for medicine to kick in or anything! I couldn't wait to do it again at the first sign of returning stuffiness.
Baby Duck was a bit afraid and required lots of coaxing to even let me try to do a tiny practice drip. I allowed her to say 'no' until she felt ready. When we did the practice drip on each side and she wanted to be done, I let her. I knew what a freaky thing it seemed to be. Then, a funny thing happened. I was on the phone when she picked up the NetiPot and proceeded to try it on her own. She did it! Having full control over the device and not having to rely on trusting me, she was brave enough to do the whole thing. She was so proud of herself using what she called the 'watering can'. "Look, Mom! I'm Nose Gardening!"

CL

Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life

caserracer — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 15:48:00 GMT

My new tattoo is a bit sore, but my mom actually seemed to be pretty impressed with it. Maybe my daddy will even like it...

We have had three snow days in a row this week, which officially puts us into 'makeup days' territory. But both my girls are sick, meaning Baby Duck would be missing her 100 Days Of School Celebration if classes had been held. Also, I don't have to argue with them about it being too dangerously cold to go play out in the snow because they don't even want to move.

My dog looks at me like I'm sending her to the gallows when I open the door to send her outside to go to the bathroom, but once she's out there she plays in the snow long after she's done her business and has an absolute blast.

My house needs cleaning, but I've got nothin' but time today...

CL

Another Day In Paradise...

caserracer — Fri, 28 Jan 2011 14:25:00 GMT

Highlight of the day: I woke up to a text that my cousin's baby had been born mere hours before induction was scheduled. Hooray!
Baby Duck came home early from school yesterday not feeling well. I canceled the highlight I was supposed to do for Aunt Taffy (who has been battling the Sinus Infection from the Black Lagoon since 2010) to avoid exposing her to a single possible germ that could set her back in her quest for reasonably un-agitated sinuses. This also meant that I had to cancel on a Mom's Night Out with my bestie, whom I know was in desperate need of some downtime. By sunset I had discovered that it was a false alarm- nothing came of the illness and Baby Duck was a-okay.
Got the kiddos to bed and realized just in the nick of time that E needed a load of whites done if he was to have a clean undershirt in the morning. It was the only load of laundry I had left to do! So I got it going.
Flash forward to this morning. Baby Duck chose the route of peaceful resistance upon waking; she simply ignored everything I said and sat on her bed looking at the clothes I had intended for her to put on. When I did my vocal impression of a cattle prod, she switched modes: she wanted everything done for her. "Get me dressed. Get my toothbrush." And so on. That doesn't fly when I'm trying to get the garbage to the curb, the dog out to potty, the Ladybug some breakfast, and E on his horse.
This is where it falls apart. I am four seconds from a mental breakdown when I hear the dryer door get opened. Only then do I realize that my heroic attempt at rescuing my husband from a certain wardrobe malfunction had failed. As I hear him go rummage in the hamper, I dash to the washing machine and see the evidence of my inadequacy. There before me is a pristine load of whites, smelling faintly of bleach... sopping wet. Doesn't do any good to wash the frakkin' whites if ya ain't gonna dry the suckers, now, does it?!?! I am out of time. I fling one white undershirt into the dryer and start it as I am desperately trying to herd my children into the car. The verbal cattle prod has absolutely no effect at this point. I actually have the physical sensation of falling down a deep hole. E tried really hard not to make me feel bad, but there was nothing he could do to mask the magnitude of my ineptitude. I am a housewife, for Pete's sake! How is it that I can be bested by a single load of laundry? Such a simple task! My Achilles' Heel hath been discovered!
I give up. It's time for me to go ogle an adorable newborn.

CL

Killer Tofu!

caserracer — Thu, 27 Jan 2011 15:39:00 GMT

Actually, that has nothing to do with anything, except for the fact that yesterday at a salad bar the beets got my sister and I discussing the old Nickelodeon cartoon, "Doug". If you have no idea what I am talking about, here is what we were referencing: www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7c3bQQmwVE.
E's flight home got diverted due to low visibility last night, causing him to not arrive home until sometime after 2:30 in the morning. I heard the door; so did the dog. I am pleased to report that the dog went nuts! I have never heard such a vicious bark come from that sweet little thing! As soon as I reassured her and called out to E to speak so she could hear his voice, she dissolved into tail-wagging excitement in her kennel. She just seemed to never know a stranger, which made me think she wouldn't make much of a watchdog. But she knew something wasn't right about the door being opened in the middle of the night. She may be quite the protector after all.

CL