The Grinch Who Ate Christmas

I know, it’s hard to see, the picture isn’t in focus, but it’s relatively impossible to get a picture of a real live Grinch – even when you have a hold of its “sweet” little powder covered face.  I took at least ten shots – this is the best one and you still can’t really tell what’s going on – or even get a real vision of the Grinch – since she is so blurry.  

So what this verifies, just like the Lochness Monster, is that you cannot get an in focus picture of an actual mythical monster, like the Grinch. (No dogs were hurt in the attempt at picture taking, or after, really).

But trust me; she is the Grinch who stole Christmas and promptly drug it all into the bed rooms to hide under the beds.  Perhaps to await the sleigh to pick her up and fly the stuff away?  But of course, not until she sampled whatever was available for chewing open and strewing white dust (snowlike perhaps) around the house and of course herself.

I went out on errands the other day and when I came home, I came home to silence.  Silence is not something this house is familiar with.   

Pulled in the drive, no dog in the window – hmmm, odd. Get out of the car, no barking in the house, really odd.  Put key in door, no whining sing-ee noises – just SILENCE.  Come in the house, nothing, no dog anywhere.  

Start to worry, drop purse – run down hall, find wrapping paper detritus and white powder everywhere – but no dog.  Look in open door of both bedrooms, trail of goods in the walkways and leading under both beds in each room.  But no dog.

OMG, where is she, what did she eat, is she dead, what is that white stuff – is it poison, rat poison is blue and its outdoors in the garage, what is all over the house???  Where is Miss Rosie? Then a nose appears.  

A small white covered face pokes out from under the bed in the guest room, her lips making a smacking noise, her eyelashes “mascarared” a thick white goo.  I grab her, her teeth are covered in white paste – like glue – smack, smack, smack her mouth is kind of stuck in paste.  Ok, she’s not dead – what the hell did she eat?  Flour, it’s a bag of flour – why a bag of flour?

Darling hubby, who not only shopped early, but wrapped my gifts and put them under the tree, bought me a cinnamon roll kit – I love white iced cinnamon rolls and it’s so hard to find a good one anywhere (really since my Jr. High school cafeteria, who made the best ones and only charged a quarter), look in the box – holy crap, there was a package of yeast in there – had she ate that, we would have been in trouble – can we say exploding wiener dog?? KAPOWY!!

So, I collected the goods, re-wrapped what I could (thanks for ruining the surprise Grinchy-Rosie) and put the pieces of the cinnamon roll kit on the counter.  Took a rag and cleaned her teeth and eyes, but I left the rest of her cake flour coated, just felt like the right thing to do (and I was unhappy with her) and sent her to her basket.   

All was well, no poison- that is until the next night, when she chewed open my prescription bottle from the night stand and helped herself – but that’s a whole other story….. Rosie, Rosie, Rosie.

(the picture is upright on my camera, not sure why it is not here - just another part of the monster photo taking folklore I guess...)