family circus

Lately I feel like I’m a member of a bona fide family circus.

Calvin, our precious little “freak” screams like a raving lunatic much of the time, especially when a seizure is brewing and/or when we’ve had to increase his anticonvulsant medication. Even I find myself gawking at him in disbelief half of the time. He’s also a good contortionist, getting his foot into his mouth quite easily from almost any position. And he could rightly be labeled Beaverboy having been known to bite the bejeezus out of cups, socks, slippers, glasses, toys, windows, cars, books and pieces of furniture.

Then there’s Rudy the dog who performs stunts like eating the corn-based cat litter and the chewy little surprise treats that are buried in it. We nicknamed him Corndog after he ate enough of the crumbly, dusty stuff causing him to drink copious amounts of water, which in turn made him poop and pee on the rug, then barf on the floor several times before going outside to retch some more. Later he proceeded to lick up his frozen puke off of the snow. We could perhaps take him on the road like some carnie. I can see it now, in neon lights or chipped paint on a carved wooden placard right next to the 14 inch woman: Rudy, aka Corndog, world's stupidest dog. Or simply, Chowderhound. If it were easy to do I could change his show name on a whim, depending upon my mood, and switch Chowderhound to Nincompooch, Dimwitdog, Bozo the Dog, Numbnuts, Jughead or Lamebrain, all of which I love the sound. But seriously, Rudy is the best dog in the world and we love him dearly.

Our recent addition to the family is Neko, the kitty who showed up on our doorstep about a month ago and kept coming back. Recently she’s been in heat, writhing all over the floor like Shirley McClain does for Peter Sellers in the bedroom scene of Being There. She sticks her butt up to any and all things including furniture, Rudy’s meathead snout and Calvin’s spinning, stomping feet. Let’s see, what could we headline her as ... World’s Horniest Pussy(cat)? Yeah.

And I haven't forgotten about the biggest freaky geek of us all: me. Although I'm not much for biting off the heads of chickens I could go on the road as any number of aliases: The Bearded Lady (since discovering a few chin hairs of late;) Christy Pipes (an alias I’ve been known as in reference to my bulging biceps, now due to the constant lifting of Calvin;) Grumpy Gertie: girl with the most furrowed brow; Madame Moody: "She’s up, she’s down, she’s up—wait ... she’s down again;" or Military Mama: "She spits bullets, she hurls profanity like a flame-thrower, she drops F-bombs like hot potatoes, she launches obscenities as if it were raining missiles. Duck!"

About the only one who seems sane around this carnival of a home is my husband Michael. He jumps through hoops, carries us on his back like an elephant. He soothes the savage beasts, feeds his clan popcorn, acts the clown to make us laugh, keeps the big top over our heads, paints smiles on our faces, brings up the lights when it’s too dark, cheers us on and very simply keeps this circus of a family on the road and working like a well-oiled, albeit slightly insane, machine.

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1 comment:

  1. I love that picture of Calvin! And our dog does the same thing with the wheat based kitty litter.

    RR Julia