Tag Archives: cody


need machine

As if I needed another reason to occasionally want to strangle my mother.

Mom pulled that thing moms do when they want you to do something… That sweet tone, the batting of the eye lashes, the pouty lips…. “Honey – would you watch my baby while I’m gone this weekend? – Pleaaaaaase?”

This weekend is the Sausage Festival at the Stone Hill Winery out in a small Germanicly settled town a couple of hours outside of St. Louis. Mom is one of the judges.

So….. I though: “We’re not doing much this weekend – another little beastie running around the house won’t be a problem.”

I couldn’t be any more incorrect.

Behold… “Cody” – a spastic, restless little ball of kinetic need and my mother’s mid-life crisis child all wrapped up into the body of a Min-Pin.

The cats were indifferent to him when he’s visited before, but as soon as the cats figured out he was staying – things changed.

One cat just sits on top of things and hisses… The other cat has taken to randomly intimidating the dog and visa versa.

When he’s not making a ruckus with the cats, he stands by the door and whines.

Take him out… He doesn’t go to the bathroom

Let him back in.. and he shits on my floor.cody dog

I just got a call from mom – she’s coming back a day early. I asked her to come straight here and pick up her…. “pet”.

I haven’t been able to nap and my evening was spent sleeping with one ear open.

My nerves are shot from constantly watching to make sure one of the cats didn’t perform a vivisection on our house guest.

I can barely focus between yaps to compose this entry that I’m trying to make for a blog I don’t have.

comfort food

chicken kievmy x-chrome donnor

Headed to my mom’s apartment around 6pm for existence dinner celebration.

We were greeted at the door by delicious aromas and a hyper kinetic min-pin by the name of Cody.

This day, if anything, is a reminder that I’m a grown man and no longer mama’s little boychic anymore. This little dog is obviously a substitute child to pacify her maternal instincts. I won’t attempt to draw any jealous comparisons except that I’ve never had a penchant for shitting on the floor as a child.

Speaking of shit, I’d be full of it if I didn’t confess that my relationship with my mother has been strange and somewhat awkward since she left my father in 1999.

She’s definitely had her share of really horrible luck since then,… to such a degree I wonder what in the hell she did in a past life to reap so much fucked up karma. I think she’s still coming into her own and doing a lot of that awkward self-actualization most of us do in our late teens. Wed at the psychically-embryonic age of 17 and with a bouncing baby monkeybear at 18 – it’s easy to understand the delay.

Strangeness and nearly weekly guilt-trips withstanding – I still adore her. She is my mama. A title no one else can ever have.

My requested birthday dinner? Chicken Kiev and all the fixins, a childhood comfort dish.

The meal was sublime as was the homemade white-chocolate cheesecake chaser.


We socialized after dinner as Chad and Kevin took turns seeing how tightly they could wind the dog.

We left with our bellies full and I with a certain level of satisfaction of spending time with the person responsible for the “BIRTH” in “Birthday”.

I wont blog about this and spare you the sticky, sweet sentiments which would make the cheesecake taste like a Saltine in comparison.