Danny Mac's Blog, page 14

My Dog is a Karen – Dad is Mean

Happy Friday Everyone,

This past week consists of grumbles and cold furry shoulders because Ginger is upset with the lack of attention in last week’s blog. It doesn’t matter if the devotion goes to mom, it isn’t about her. So, this week’s blog expresses Ginger’s karen rant about me.

Dad proves he is the meanest in the house. He blames me for happenings outside my control. For instance, dad covers the couch with a protective blanket. He tucks the cover tightly removing all wrinkles. Sure it looks pristine when done. The strain from tightness makes it look smooth means one little touch from me and poof it explodes all over me. Then as I try putting back, he calls me a karen and tells mom on me.

Sometimes, it becomes possible to sleep on the cover and a simple rollover causes it to spring out of its perfectly positioned constraint, and again it falls on top of me. He complains as if he lays in the same position all night. Do I receive tender mercies for having lived through the fright of having the cover explode on top of me? No, he yells at me and tells me to get my furry butt upstairs.

The second meanest thing he does is break my snacks in half. I manage one treat a day and this cheapskate breaks it in half to save a penny. I help Scrooge by eating the bits and crumbs falling from the counter from his messy cooking and he breaks my only reward in half. He rewards half a cookie for protecting his sorry self from the evils in the world like murderous chipmunks, killer robins, and evil delivery trucks on a daily basis.

The final act of meanness is so terrible, I hesitate to tell you about it. The other night while tucking my royal blue blanket around me for a night’s sleep, he leaves one of my ears open to the chill of the night. A polite moan fails to point out his lack of attention to detail. Instead, I hear, “Quit complaining and go to sleep.” Who can possibly sleep with one ear left open to the night air of the frosty bedroom floor? This callous man maliciously climbs into bed and shuts off the light with one of my ears subject to frostbite and amputation.

How am I the karen when these are only the tip of the iceberg of abuse in this house? Yet, being the ever-faithful dog, I serve them without complaint or regard for my safety.

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God bless,
Danny Mac

My Dog is a Karen – A Sentimental Journey

Happy St. Paddy’s Day Everyone,

When mentioning my departure from the usual karen stories, our dog Ginger turned the cold furry shoulder to me. In order to keep the peace and appease Ginger, a quick story. Finishing the cleaning of the kitchen the sound of the protective cover being shredded from the couch became apparent. As the parent in charge, I walked into the living room to see Ginger pulling the cover across the cushions to sleep on the pile. However, being a karen, she gave me a dirty look for catching her. She grumbled every step up to complain to mom.

Twenty-nine years of marriage closes quickly upon my wife and me. The week ended early for me taking Friday off to start spring break at college a lifetime ago. We attended the rehearsal in the evening and then went out with our siblings to celebrate before a peaceful night’s sleep.

Our quaint little wedding of just immediate family bloomed to over a hundred people because our mothers supplied their input. There was a certain calmness to me until over three hundred eyes peered at me and my bride, and then my stomach tightened. As we held hands while the preacher introduced us, I fixated on the hopeful face of my bride. When the preacher turned his back, she mouthed, “My hands.” I looked down to see my hands tightened to a vice-like grip squeezing her hands purple.

We still talk fondly of this precious moment twenty-nine years later. We look back with joy on all the good times, adversities, and a few bad moments. As the gray filters into our lives, I still feel the same young woman I squeezed to purple all those years before. I believe she still has the crazy guy who at times hangs on tightly to her when things go south.

I take great pride in knowing that I can aggravate her anytime as proven over the many years. I look forward to pestering well into the future. Why she would put up with a man like me, you might ask. I can cook! A well-prepared meal goes a long way in smoothing out hurt feelings, a broken heart, or a disappointing dream. (Younger husbands take note of this.) Chicken parmesan, pasta with various sauces, and most of all fettuccine Alfredo are her favorites.

The first twenty-nine years were so good, I cannot wait to see what the next three decades bring us.

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God bless,
Danny Mac

My Dog is a Karen – Ginger’s POV

Hello everyone,

The other day I saw the neighbor talking to their cat. It was so funny to see someone talking to their cat, I went inside and told Ginger our dog about it. Ginger indicated that she wished to pronounce more complaints to you, her reading audience. She believed my skewed view of her righteous behavior gave you the wrong impression. Here is her story this month:

I stood guard over my ungrateful family ever diligently defending them from mass murderers driving trucks in the neighborhood with the most unthankful being dad. He failed to recognize the danger from the massive machine or its deranged drivers. He sent me to my room instead of adhering to my burning plea.

He brings me into the house when the new neighbors walk Bailey their dog. “He’s old, slow, and quiet,” naively quantified by the man who refused to see the danger. Only I know this unassuming demeanor covered up years of pent-up rage just waiting to explode on my family. Dad petted him like an old lost friend not knowing the wrath lurking below the surface that can take his hand off at any moment. Then, he had the nerve to call me a karen for warning him with a gentle bark of concern.

Dad relishes getting me in trouble with mom with no proof and with circumstantial evidence. The other evening while standing guard over the house from intruders I hear, “Mom, you better come down here Ginger pulled the cover of the couch again. Oh, and she also knocked the pillow off the red chair.”

I looked at dad with righteous indignation over his accusations. I was minding my own business securing this house and he had the nerve to blame me. Dad pointed at the mess as mom enters the living room. In my defense, while still staring at dad, “Both of my eyes were shut as I took a short nap. It was fine before my respite from saving my family and you blame me?”

Mom gave me the disappointed look and then put the pillow back on the chair. Then she chased me off the couch and fixed the cover. Dad stood there smiling like the devil himself. I finally recognized he found me napping and moved the cover and the pillow just to blame me. How else did it explain the cover landed on top of me when I don’t have thumbs for grabbing?

Please cast your verdict, do you think I, a sweet innocent dog, or the jealous mean-spirited dad guilty?

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God bless,
Danny Mac

My Dog is a Karen – Ginger’s Revenge

Hello everyone,

For nearly nine years desperados drove past and stopped in front of our house in their blue, brown, and white trucks. I never saw them do it, but it might be they sneered at Ginger making her go karen at their actions. Perhaps, it was the fact they did not acknowledge her existence that provoked the karen from deep inside her heart. Whatever the case, she did not like it when Amazon, UPS, and FedEx stopped in our neighborhood.

The other afternoon, Ginger banged her bell to go outside. There was no sign of urgency in her wanting out and being a nice day, it was a regular occurrence. The leash connected to her collar without any whines and whistles of impending panic. The door opened and I released the leash to see a white truck of FedEx backed into the neighbor's drive.

Ginger stalked out with her head low to the ground until the leash stretched tight. Meanwhile, I slid into my slippers knowing the outburst to come. The unsuspecting driver with a small package cleared the back of the truck heading to the front door. “ARRRROOORRRROOOO!” screamed from Ginger’s gut in a bloodcurdling karen shriek. The poor driver jumped and grabbed for his heart upon hearing the ear-piercing karen explosion. From his sigh of relief to see me fetching the screeching harpy, it was not his first encounter with a karen. Ginger reentered the house with the smirk and chuckle of Smedley.
(For those of you younger than me, search Smedley Laugh on YouTube.)

I recently completed chapter sixteen in my latest WIP. With this continuation of the Flying People Series of urban fantasies, I have another five or six chapters to finish the plot of this story. The flying heroes meet old nemesis with greater powers as well as some new monsters bringing the threat of death to them. After completing the initial story, it produces six months to a year of corrections and modifications before sending it to the editor.

The Devil’s Dragon lies in the hands of my editor since the beginning of February, and she wants another week to complete the corrections. Reviewing the final version, writing the blurb, and making the cover takes a couple of months before it is ready for publication. I am looking for a May release at this time. This storyline introduces several new flying characters as omens point to the deadly dragon from hell coming back into our world today.

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God bless,
Danny Mac

My Dog is a Karen – Staying Fit

Hello everyone,

The other day my wife and I walked through the park. A gray-chinned dog that possessed a little more weight than ideal plodded toward us. This rounded hound lazily lumbered along the walking path with little energy. We stopped and gave her some loving because every good dog procures doting from dog people. Her tail wagged frantically as we scratched her head and rubbed her ears.

“A little chubby wasn’t she,” I noticed out loud after clearing earshot.

“Yes, but she is old, and old dogs like old people tend to put on the pounds. It is amazing Ginger hasn’t added to her weight since she will be ten soon.”

“Ginger is a karen and it is her karenness that keeps her at a healthy weight. It’s not easy being a karen all day long.”

The boss of the house nodded in agreement while chuckling at her wild dog.

The next morning Ginger waited impatiently for her banana snack from mom’s breakfast. A little drool seeped from her lips as the body language clearly stated, “You are taking soooooo long.”

“Hey Ginger, is that your nose or are you eating a banana?” sing-sang the old joke from my mouth.

Oh the look from Ginger, the look stated, “Are you calling my nose big.”

Mom laughs as our karen burns holes in me as I reply, “It must be, and you are constantly sticking it into other people's business.” Ginger gave me the cold furry shoulder for the rest of the morning. Well, at least until she wanted out again, and again, and again for it was a warm and sunny day.

During a typical day, Ginger sleeps on the couch, our bed, or the sunny section of the kitchen floor. At least once an hour she crawls out of her slumber, meanders to the front windows, and checks for the neighbor. If they are present, she greets them with a torrent of howls, barks, and screeches. If nothing appears immoral according to her sensibilities, then she groans and returns to her time-consuming napping.

Needless to say, we deal with this several times a day with Ginger going karen because the neighbors have the audacity to walk out of their house and perform duties in their yard. This assault on Ginger’s feelings garners loud retribution while racing from the family room to the living room several times with great speed. Their malicious behavior to provoke such a response include walking to their car to go somewhere, walking to get the mail, and walking their dog.

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God bless,
Danny Mac

My Dog is a Karen – Dejected Dog

Hello everyone,

A southern wind woke us up Saturday morning bringing the temperature from below-freezing to over forty degrees by ten. Accompanying the warming airstream came a bright sunny day raising the temps to the fifties by midafternoon. In Miami, sunny fifty degrees is considered cold and blustery, but in northern Ohio, this is a rare gift from God.

The unusually nice day brought people out of their houses for chores as my father used to say, "Make hay while the sun is shining." The bathing warmth of the sun also brought old dogs to soak in the hospitable temperatures. Our problem comes in the form of a nine-year-old, red-headed, cranky, karen of a dog named Ginger.

Seeing the sun blasting through the window, Ginger made her way outside at nine. Nice but not quite ready for her old bones to stay outdoors. Checking again at ten, the sun and wind rose the temperatures to make it very pleasant. Fifteen minutes later, the sunbathing dog spied the neighbor coming out of his garage. Since she never approved of him buying the house in the first place, her inner karen erupted on the man doing yard work.

I compelled her back into the house and pressured her to go to her room. This lasted all of ten minutes and she sought out again. I didn’t notice the neighbor, so I let her out. The door didn’t have the chance to close when, “Aaaarrrrrrooooo,” instant anger shrills came out of her mouth. I corralled her back into the house and directed her to her room in under thirty seconds.

Every ten minutes like clockwork, Ginger whined her discontent to go outside. I checked to see if the neighbor was still working and refused her. I noticed his car had gone around eleven and let Ginger out. She sprung out the door with great expectations only to find nothing out of place. She spent a good twenty minutes doing what dogs do on an exceptionally warm February day.

A despondent scratch came from her door and she entered a dejected dog. Her slow pouting pace informed me she found nothing to howl at for a full term outside. She skulked off to her room like a petulant child complaining under her breath.

I found out from mom, that after each time I sent her upstairs, our karen of a dog complained to the manager about me not letting wail at the neighbors. The mother of the house explained, "Ginger nudged my arm with the saddest of eyes and grimace on her face."

She wanted mom to countermand dad’s orders and let her go karen on the neighbor fixing his yard. When she did spend time outside, she found nothing to raise the hairs on her back. She curled up on the bed and moaned her displeasure for ten minutes.

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God bless,
Danny Mac

My Dog is a Karen – Unfair Dad

Hello everyone,

While reading last week’s post, Ginger nodded happily along as my writing carried her voice. When finished she gave me the look, “Is that it!” Apparently, she had more to say. Here is the latest from Queen Ginger and the karen of all she can see.

Dad is unfair, but he gives me the best head scratches. His nails kneed deeply into my skull messaging bliss causing my eyes to roll up into my head. However, he only does it once or twice a day. As the euphoric sensation commences, he stops, literally, like two seconds into it. Mom says, “You had your two minutes of loving, now it’s my turn.”

Last week, dad tattled, “Ginger tried to sit on the red chair.” Mom raced down to see the couch cushions still protecting the chair. Dad lied to her by stating, “Ginger was trying to knock the cushion off the chair.” Yet, the cushion remained on the chair. Without a hint of proof, this man lied on me to mom. The truth was, I tried to fix it because it was crooked and my Judas of a mother scolded me on dad’s word.

The worse of the worst came this week when dad took mom out of the house for the whole day leaving me sad, alone, and heartbroken. They pranced in the door smiling and carefree knowing I nearly starved to death in their absence. Meeting mom with my usual friendly greeting to see her home safe and sound from her long exodus, “Ginger relax, we were gone only an hour,” uncaringly rang from her mouth.

Then I notice they brought back gyros for the family. Sister reached into the bag for her gyro and tzatziki. Then mom pulled out one and opened it. Dad stepped between to obtain his gyro while mom and sister played with their food. Not wanting to be left out, gently squeezed between mom and dad to reach mine. I tenderly grazed dad’s arm to reach the open sandwich on the counter when he screams, “AAAAHHHH!” making me and mom jump.

The taste of the delicious gyro meat falls from my tongue in fear of this tyrant scream. I ran under the dining table to see the piece of meat I dropped on the floor with tomato bits and a little sauce. Mom knows the truth, “That’s my fault for not paying attention.” Dad growls at me, yes literally growls at me. Then says, “You know you are not allowed on the counters.” No one knew there was a second insy-weency piece of meat behind mom and that is what a half-starved dog received for lunch.

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God bless,
Danny Mac

My Dog is a Karen – Vet Visit

Hello everyone,

The yearly checkup for our puppy of nearly ten years took us to the veterinarian’s office this week. Here is her story in her words.

Mom approaches with my harness and this can only mean one of two things. Either bad people are coming over or we are going for a walk. I sit like a good girl and patiently wait for the harness while mom complains about me moving too much. She reaches for the leash and again, mom yells at me for not listening to her unreasonable ramblings.

The back door brings excitement for this means a walk, but something seems off because dad dons his hat and coat. The feeling of being bamboozled builds to see the garage door still down. My cheery disposition makes me think, “We are headed for the park.”

When we pass the park, my worst fears come to fruition and I calmly announce my concerns as mom yells at me to stop whining. The happy sign of dogs and cats playing appear through the windshield and my heart frets as we pull into the parking lot. “Not here” clearly squeaks out in an appeal for clemency from the doom facing me. I kindly plea, “Please just take me home,” Mom screeches back I am being too loud.

Then the scents of food, other critters, and strange medicine torture my nose and mind. The woman in scrubs tells me to sit on the unstable platform. “Not long enough,” everyone shouts at me. The uneasiness of the stage adds to the wobbliness of my legs.

Then the scrubbed woman shuts us in a prison cell of torture and mayhem. I can hear our captors plotting just outside the door. Their malevolent expressions carefully filter through the door and then heavy steps drift them away. The henchwoman enters to gather more information to determine the exact punishment to deal out on my body for the day. Mom and dad answer her questions with delight and detail for maximum retribution. She exits the room with the foulest of smiles on her face.

Another eternity of plotting happens just outside the door. Evil words, like shot, needle, and sentinel purposefully float through the door meant to strike fear into me. The henchwoman and the Grand Inquisitor enter the lockup carrying devices of pain and torture. She tries bribing me with a cookie but I am too clever for that. My Judas of a mother forces me into the grips of my tormentors.

The GI flashes a brilliant light into my eyes in order to blind me to what is about to happen. She prods my ears with a funnel in an effort to silence her future intentions. I feel the cold metal rubbing on my chest in order to stop my heart from beating, but I fight through the ordeal. Then she hangs my tail high into the air so I cannot protect my private spot. Then runs her hand down my belly looking for the soft spot to kill me.

The GI orders the henchwoman to take me to worm my heart and lop off my toes. I bravely take the final walk of death to the recesses of the dungeon. There, she extracts a gallon of blood from my forearm. Again, I prove resilient and survive this attempt to end my life. Several people secure my being while the henchwoman uses pruning shears to hack off my nails to the nub.

Mom and I leave the office while dad stays back to conspire for the next visit. I lay placid on the back seat all the way home not wanting to return to the horrors of the Veterinarian’s office.

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God bless,
Danny Mac

My Dog is a Karen – Dog Injustice

Hello everyone,

Sunday morning began gloomy and gray. We left for Church as the white fluff settled gently from the sky. The fifteen-minute trip ended in a driving sea of white reducing visibility to a quarter mile. Two hours later we said our goodbyes and trudged through three inches of snow.

The forecasters predicted three inches unless the storm slowed and then it could dump more. The stalled storm lasted all day long with occasional whiteouts until after dark. Monday the lake effect flurries kicked in and we accumulated another inch on top the Sunday’s storm.

Seven inches of snow proved too much for me and my bad back. Wife and daughter gathered a face of disdain over the prospect of shoveling the wet heavy slop. I texted the plow guy to clear the 150-foot drive.

About an hour later, he texted back, “Be there in five minutes.” I immediately climbed the stairs and told my wife, “The vehicle to remove the white stuff is on its way,” then closed mom and the dog into the room. I spoke in code because my dog is a karen.

I slipped into my shoes and moved my daughter’s car out of the drive. The plow guy was waiting for me to pull out. Five minutes later, he waved me back home. I wrote the check and brought it to him. He drove off to his next client.

Entering the house, nrrrrrrrooooo, arrrrrnnnn, and other complaints wafted downstairs from the closed room. According to mom, my speaking in code and closing the door alerted the karen and she complained the entire time. Ginger, in full karen mode, complained about me locking her in the room. She filed her grievances to her mom, the manager of the house. The manager, “You will only bark louder if I let you out.”

By the time I entered the house, Ginger changed her objections of being locked in by me to mom being mean and unfair for not letting out. Ginger delivered mom the karen glares all Monday afternoon. An hour after clearing our drive, the mostly asleep Ginger moaned out a grumble or two over the injustice set upon her that day.

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God bless,
Danny Mac

My Dog is a Karen – Ginger’s POV

Hello everyone,

Ginger is demonstrating more indignation over my blogs in recent weeks. As mom read last week’s post to her, she moans out lies and untruths, squeaks of unfairness, and squeals of not my fault. In an effort to be fair and considerate of the karen lying just below the surface, this week’s blog comes from Ginger’s Point Of View.

Dad’s blogs exaggerate my moods and temperament every week painting me as an unhinged shrieking harpy. Nothing could be further from the truth. I came into their lives and brighten them with charm and wisdom. My cheery personality warms an otherwise cold house. Sometimes, very rarely, I become a little frustrated by the lack of love coming back to me and become a touch grumpy.

I protect the house from intruders when the people in the house fail to see the threat. As they while away the hours, I maintain diligent vigilance of security. Frequently searching the great outdoors for anything that might hurt my family to which the ungrateful only yell at me.

When new people try to enter the house, I fiercely defend it. Yet, the naïve yell at me, “They come every week to the house.” These guests bring little people with them. They are the perfect size for me to tumble with them. Do I get to play? No, they lock me upstairs because the uncoordinated youngsters cannot stand on their feet when I barely brush against them in a gentle playful manner.

Mom runs the house and dad acts as her enforcer. He tells lies about me and chases me out of the kitchen when I am just trying to help him. The other day, a pillow fell off the red chair and he told mom I did it. He didn’t see me in the chair but told on me just the same. A week ago, the cover on the couch fell off and I tried to fix it. I did my best to put it back but it ended up in a ball on top of me. Do I get the benefit of the doubt? No, he tells mom, I tore off the cover for my own comfort.

Dad comes to bed last. It is his job to make sure I am covered for the night in the blanket I chose. Sometimes he forgets or does a haphazard job of it. I politely comment on his lack of details. He sarcastically says, “Excuuusssse meeee!” like I am making a big deal of my head not being completely covered and tucked in.

The comments expressed on behalf of Ginger were read to her and approved. Please leave a comment on my blog, subscribe for future blogs, and like where applicable.

God bless,
Danny Mac