I swear, my dogs’ mission in life is to turn our house upside down on the exact day our cleaning lady comes. I’m hesitant to say that dogs are geniuses, but guys-my dogs are.

Geniuses.

Yep. I’m not lying. Okay maybe a little. Boz is, quite honestly, mentally challenged (seriously- I’m not kidding. The guy’s play mechanism is kaput. We’ll throw a ball his way and he just stands there, cocks his head and looks at me as if I’m a complete moron- as if to say, “Why in the crap are you throwing stuff at me, you idiot?” We try to play with stuffed animals and he runs away as if a rabid hyena is the hand behind the stuffed animal and is surely reeling him in to EAT LITTLE BOZZY’S TAIL- OH MY! See what I’m saying?) Poor Boz, he’s broken but we love him anyway. Boz is kind of like Spongebob’s sidekick Patrick, or any other not-so-smart sidekick in history. Lucy is the brains of the operation, and he’s the one that follows behind and does whatever she says.

However, when it comes to tearing up the house- he’s a genius. Just like Lucy-Goosey.

It’s as if they conspire all day long, and each hour passes that I’m not home is another hour they stew and scheme and make fun of what I wore that day.

“Ahahaha, Boz, can you believe she went out of the house donning ( yes, Lucy even says fancy words like donning) those dangle-y earrings with that shirt? Uh- it’s a bit much if you ask me. I feel sorry for those pants too! I think she exaggerated a bit with the weight she gained on vacation WHILE WE WERE STUCK IN Q-8 YOU SORRY PIECE OF CRAP EXCUSE FOR A MOTHER!”

Boz is all, “Duuuhh yeah!” and then erupts into that terrible Patrick-like laugh.

After they make fun of my attire, they continue to pace and growl and be the vicious dogs maltese are known to be:

“How could she leave us locked up in this spare bathroom all day, Boz?”

“Duuh- we’re in a bathroom?”

“She must pay! She must suffer! Boz we have to revolt! Revolt I say! Do you have the number to the NAACP?”

“?”

“Do I have to do everything myself!? Geez!”

“Crap, Boz. I’m too small to reach the phonebook. We’ve gotta do something- we just gotta! This is a human rights violation, Boz, and I won’t stand for it!”

“Guuh- I thought we were dogs.”

“Oh nevermind! Think Boz, Think.”

“…”

“Okay- I guess this is on me,” Lucy says.

“I know! We’ll drive her crazy with our stinkiness!”

“Duuh. I like being stinky. Stinky is fun!”

“Yeah- stinky IS fun, Boz!

We’ll make her go crazy by peeing and pooping on the

Same

Exact

‘Random’

Spot

Every.

Single.

Day.

Brilliant!”

“Duuuh. That’s smart, Lucy. I like poop. Poop is fun. Especially to eat. Yum.”

I’m positive this is how their conversation goes. They’re slowly killing me, guys. They’re wearing me down one piece of crap at a time.

For some really strange reason they have decided that the open space in our dining room is where their new bathroom will be. Multiple times each day I find an array of feces and urine,

And it’s driving me crazy.

I can’t catch them in the act to scold them, but when I do… it could be bad guys.

I was seriously at my wit’s end the other day. I get so excited when my cleaning fairy comes to my house. It’s the highlight of my work week. However, because Boz and Lucy are conspiring against me, they know this and want to make sure my happiness disappears like a 50% off pair of black Limited trousers.

Lately it seems as soon as I get home and let them out of their room, the revolt begins. Guys- they are so naughty. I’m pretty sure I cuss 32 times and vow never to have children each day this revolt occurs.

To make matters worse, they are so cute on the nights they totally piss me off. It’s like they try to counter the attack with their cuteness. It’s painful guys.

(That’s all apart of their plan, you know.)

I would clean up one mess, and then another would follow, and then another, and another until I really started to wonder what in the world they were eating to produce so much crap! I was so grouchy and poor Will had to deal with my constant, “No! No! That’s naughty!” yells on top of a bad headache.

My house was perfect- it was the “fake house” that no one ever has in real life. However, it was quickly destroyed by Boz and Lucy’s evil plan. Why!? Why must they hate me so much? They know I love cleaning day.

So, I finally calmed down and their bodily fluids finally dried up, and all was well in the WB house once again. They continue to combat me with their crap, but this time I’m better prepared and ready to take them on.

I just wish I could be a fly on the wall. I have this really funny feeling that Lucy has sketches drawn out all over their room marking “X” where Boz needs to pee, and as soon as they hear the key hit the door they quickly transform the room back into its normal state- rotating walls, tearing down maps, and erasing tasteless caricatures of me that were drawn on the floor.

Sneaky geniuses, I tell you.

I’m watching you pups- be careful. Very careful.

(I want to let you guys know I’m just kidding about Boz- sort of. He’s not the brightest bulb in the box, but he sure is the sweetest. I’ve never seen a more loving dog. He wants nothing more than to be held and loved. He’s such a sweet boy and is a great lap dog. Don’t think I don’t love him, you crazies, I certainly do.)