Pimp My Crib

Gunny recently moved into his newly pimped out crib. Peanut Head started making this souped up chalet towards the end of winter when Mr. Naughty Pants ate that door jamb. I took one look at the door jamb, and right away it was no longer too cold for His Hairiness to be outside during the day. Suddenly he found himself out of doors in Idaho temps. Brrrrr.

Peanut Head, being the nice guy that he is, set to work on the new doggie digs right away. Gunny was very helpful, lending lots of moral support out in the cold garage.

Check this out, Peanut Head gave His Doggitiness insulation. Geesh. I think that stuff is better than the stuff in my house. My house with the missing door jamb.

Just in case you thought I was anal, Peanut Head didn't cut any corners for Gunny Man.

Yep, that's siding you see there. What happened to the plywood Snoopy house? I thought dog houses were just slapped together with wood scraps in an afternoon, not planned out and cost adjusted in excruciating detail.

Peanut Head even had a little brainstorming session with Gunny, wherein they discussed in great detail how much growing was going to ensue in later months. Inseams were measured, then multiplied by percentage speculations based on age in months vs. average growing season for canine persons.

I don't really know what I'm saying. I witnessed some things and made some guesses about the actual math of it all. But there was measuring and too many nauseating growth projections. I was consulted and, always happy to help, I did some vigorous eye rolling. I mean enthusiastic.

Gunny even had to hang for a bit, just to make sure it was right-sized. And I think Peanut Head was crossing his fingers that Gunny didn't end up turning into that freakishly big red dog, Clifford.

And this? This is the ultimate insult in my world. Gunny Man has a foyer. And yes, I'll admit, I was a little tempted to hang wallpaper and shop for an entry table and lamp, but dang it, I don't even have a foyer in my door-jamb-missing-house. I have a rug for people to step on. 

You step into my house and immediately you are in my living room. It's that cozy.

There is no foyer.

Peanut Head tried to pacify me by explaining that this is really some sort of submarine-like compartment to seal off the frigid cold and wind. Gunny steps into his foyer, shakes off his delicate little doggie legs, then proceeds into the next compartment, the formal living room.

After explaining why Gunny gets a foyer and I'm still waiting for the door jamb replacement, Peanut Head had the nerve to hand me a paint brush.

Can you believe that?

Of course, only the best for my little Doggie-Dita. I snatched Peanut Head's faded camo beret-hat-thing, the one he wore when he was a Grunt, and headed off to Home Depot for a little color-matching session.

I love camo. I'm thinking I'm going to try to turn this into a piece of digi paper since I haven't been able to find any digi camo supplies anywhere.

Peanut Head made me do the Gunnery Sargeant insignia. He printed a picture for me and everything.

And then he held a chipotle chile pepper to my head again.

And Gunny laughed at me. The nerve.

Just so you know, and because maybe I'm a little bitter, Gunny is a chicken butt. He's such a chicken butt that he was barking so ferociously at a plastic grocery bag in our backyard this afternoon, that I thought he was going to give himself an aneurysm.

And because you know I'm naughty, I ran out and coaxed him to investigate a little closer with me, then when we got right up on it, I shook it at him and chased him with it.

And I think he wet himself.

Oopsie.