Well, how stupid can I be?

Don’t answer that.  I have two teenagers ever at the ready to provide the information.

Can you believe I am so stupid:

-I expect trash to go in the wastebasket instead of the floor?

-I want to wash dirty, sweaty clothes before they are worn a second day?

-I believe the San Diego Padres may win a World Series before I am dead?

Okay, the last one is pretty far out there.  I also believe my calendar and in Central Oregon, that is a very stupid thing to do.

My calendar says spring started on March 20.  However, today, more than a week into April, it is snowing.  Last Saturday was the extended deadline to remove studded tires so of course it’s snowing now which made for a challenging dog walk.

Scully, the poodle mix, wanted to sit down and sob.  Scooby, the Jack Russell Terrier, ducked and shuddered each time a snowflake hit his body. 

When the weather is like this, the dogs prefer to ride in the car.  It was a lot harder to have them on board when Rosie, the retriever mix, was alive.

Rosie was, how should I say it; extremely fluffy.  She was starving when the Humane Society found her and for the ten years she lived with us, she made up for lost time.  The only time she stopped eating was when she finally got full at which point she lost the will to live and died a few days later.

But when she was alive and I had all three dogs in the minivan, my driving skills were tested when something exciting happened such as when we passed a cow, another dog or when an air molecule went shooting by.

The dogs, led by Scooby, would go into full-blown emergency mode which required them to bark with all their collective might.  In order to appear the most ferocious, they would run to the window nearest their target (the barkee) and, given the total weight involved, would often rock the vehicle up on two wheels. 

So, we would be going down the road hell bent for leather in this spectacular fashion because I wanted to get away from the cause of alarm as fast as possible so I could utilize all four wheels of the car.  I would wave to the open-mouthed spectators and law enforcement officers we passed in a reassuring manner that all was well with the majority of them returning my greeting with the signal I was number one.

Meanwhile, the emotional state of the dogs would reach such a fevered pitch; the dogs would enthusiastically release the Blue Cloud O’ Doom, the odor of which could only be rivaled by a monkey house after Prune Day.

Now with only two dogs, our trips are not quite so life-threatening but they do provide further proof to my family that I am mentally challenged.

I know Scooby understands the control mechanisms of the car.  One time a cat crossed in front of me and I honked at the critter to encourage it to hurry itself along.

Scooby was delighted.

He bounded up to the front of the car to see for himself this outstanding way of irritating felines.  He isn’t strong enough to actually make the horn work but it’s not for lack of trying.

Another day the radio station started in on a twin-spin of Pat Benatar, music which, as you know, has no business whatsoever being on a classic rock station.  The Beatles, Aerosmith, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, Queen and ZZ Top are classic rock.  Foreigner, Rush, Journey, Kiss, Jethro Tull and Pat Benatar are NOT.   I groaned and tried to stifle the rising gorge in my intestinal system but before I could react, I kid you not this actually happened; Scooby hopped up to the radio dial and changed the radio station to AC/DC.

Now THAT is a good doggie.

The two dogs still get very excited over the same things even though one of them, Scully, is blind.  She reacts to Scooby’s barks figuring if he thinks there is cause for alarm, better to be safe than sorry.  So, they start up the chorus and before long, the dreaded Blue Cloud O’ Doom is detonated.

It may be one less dog’s worth but now I’m in a smaller car so the stakes are just as high.  Not to worry because Scooby, bless his little pinhead; has figured out a new trick.

He jumps up on the arm rest of the door and with his little foot, pushes the button that puts down the window releasing the stench and drawing in the sweet, sweet air of life.

If it’s cold outside, or even snowing, regardless of what month the calendar actually reads, I may lock the windows because I am afraid that the sub-freezing temperatures could solidify the Doom Cloud.  Regardless Scooby will still jump up to the right spot and I will hear the little click, click, click sound as he frantically tries to get the window down. 

I guess it wouldn’t be too stupid to let in some of the cold air at that point.