Fudge Did It!!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

I am married to a “pass the buck” man and I don’t mean a man who is passing out money.  When the kids were little, he thought nothing of throwing them under the bus if it meant he could stay out of trouble.  I could walk into the kitchen and find him eating a peanut butter sandwich with peanut butter on every drawer knob and him holding the knife and he would still try and say it was the kids who did it. I have long told him he would never be successful as a criminal because the evidence he leaves behind when he exits a room would do him in every time.  As they got older, the jig was up because the kids would blow him in and after a while all of them going back and forth about who did what would just make me mad at the whole lot of them.

 

The trouble with being a buck passer, besides the name, is sometimes in your quest to pass the buck quickly when you sense impending nagging, you tend to oversell and overshoot your buck passing, and it becomes obvious where the buck really stops.  This is exactly what happened the other night when I walked into the living room to see why the house was so cold. Immediately, I noticed two things, 1) John sitting in his recliner playing a game on his IPod and 2) the front door left wide open.  It felt like I had walked into a freezer and made me wonder why I was the only one who noticed.  I swear I could see my own breath as I asked the obvious question, “why is the front door wide open?” Even after living with a buck passer for all of my married life, I was unprepared for the response he uttered, “Fudge did it.”  So, to clarify, I said, “are you telling me Fudge opened the front door and then didn’t shut it when she came back into the house?” 

 

As the story unfolded, it quickly became clear to one of us that the longer he talked, the bigger hole he was digging.  He had finally run up against an unmovable buck as he explained that he had let both dogs out, left the door slightly ajar, and Fudge must have come back in at some point unannounced. This meant he really wasn’t clear where either dog happened to be as he sat in his recliner playing his game with an open front door.  He also wasn’t sure if some wild animal had used the wide open door as an excuse to come in out of the cold or if a crazed murderer was now sleeping in our spare bedroom waiting until we all fell asleep to get down to business.  I had some serious doubts that the man sitting in the chair oblivious to life around him would notice anything like that and in fact, was almost sure that if a stranger had walked in and asked where he should put his stuff for the night, all John would do was nod and say, “my wife is back in the bedroom, ask her, I’m playing a game.”  The only thing John seemed crystal clear on was that it was Fudge’s fault for getting him in trouble, because she left the door open that caused me to feel the arctic breeze and come looking for an answer.   Kids are one thing, but blaming an innocent animal is another and where I feel the line should be drawn.  I seemed to be the only one who felt that way that night, because he kept looking at Fudge and telling her she had gotten him into big trouble.  I pointed out several times that it wasn’t a dog that got him in trouble, but another animal, but my words seemed to fall on big, donkey ears.

 

If a lesson gets learned, I count it as a successful story and know we can put it all in the past and it won’t happen again.  In this case, I would be wrong because it happened again the other night.  This time, it had poured all day.  Since we were cooped up in the house, although I did still walk the dogs, I cleaned, vacuumed, dusted and mopped the floors.  I am so behind this year for Christmas that I felt like I had one major thing crossed off my list and could proceed with the other fifty things left to do.  I even cooked dinner and wrapped some packages and felt like I was reliving those days when my mom used to call me a whirling dervish.  The older I get the less I whirl, but I had whirled that day. Anyways, everything was going so well until John got home from work and let the dogs out.  I was busy in the kitchen when he brought them back in, but not too busy to see muddy paw prints all over my newly mopped floors and all down the carpeted steps as one or both of the dogs followed him downstairs.  For one fleeting moment, I wondered if killing someone with a Swiffer under these circumstances would be considered justifiable homicide in the eyes of the law. Luckily for John, I do not own a gun, but I do own a rather loud voice and sometimes, I think he would agree, that can be much worse.

 

Trust me when I say, I used that loud voice over and over again to point out the fact that my pristine floors weren’t pristine anymore and someone was going to pay and then it happened again.  He said it was Fudge’s fault.  Apparently, somehow Fudge’s 50 pound self had eluded him when he wiped paws.  I asked if 2 dogs multiplied by 4 paws was too much math for him and he said Fudge must have pushed the door open again and got into the house before he had a chance to wipe her paws. Apparently, he expected the dog who makes it a point everyday to keep us informed as to who is really in charge, to sit patiently by the open door with muddy paws (did I mention it was pouring?) until someone came and wiped her paws.  Surely by now he has to know we do not own Rin Tin Tin or Lassie.  We are talking about Fudge and Vern here and I count it a good day if Vern doesn’t eat a box of Kleenex and Fudge finally comes after I turn off the outside lights and yell, “bye bye Fudge, I’m leaving.”

 

I think John could tell by my red face, frequent breaths, and moans of, “my beautiful floors are ruined,” that it would be in his best interest to volunteer for clean up.  My floors are back to being pristineish, although I know at any time, it could all happen again and the buck could be shamelessly passed to an innocent dog.  

I didn't do nuttin'

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Karen, Fudge feels so much better knowing J.D. is on the case :) John should be shaking in his boots. LOL Thank you!

Camilla, Thank you! I know....Fudge is always innocent. 

Adina, I wish I had a mud room, although I think John would have the same issues as Clark and the kids :) 

Thank you, Cheryl and Finn :) 

[Cheryl and Finnegan]

If this goes to trial, Finn and I will happily volunteer as jurors :) 

[Adina P]

If it is even overcast my radar is on and I am sure to contain the dogs before they can put muddy paws on every floor of the house.  I don't open the door to let them in unless the mud room gate is closed.  And if I'm coming in with the dogs, I make a beeline for the gate to get there before they do.  Clark and the kids don't always think that far ahead and in 2 seconds I've got 60 paw prints on the kitchen floor and a line of paws through the living room.

[Camilla and Darwin]

Who could blame innocent Fudge? ;-) Love this post!

[Karen, Jasper and Jackdoodle]

Tell John that he'd better get himself a very good attorney, because JD, J.D. is outraged on Fudge's behalf and feels that she has grounds to sue him for slander. JD says he will take the case on a contingency basis, and intends to call you as his star witness. 

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Donna, LOL...I guess he thinks I am dumb :)

F, I can't stop myself from cleaning when I have company. There is no hope, but this is still all John's fault.

Ricki, I know...I will tell him...but he doesn't listen :)

[Ricki and Tara (doodle)]

Tell John that if he doesn't cut it out Santa's going to bring him coal this year!

[F, Calla & Luca]

I think your real point is that there is no point in cleaning. After all when expecting a cast of thousands, well three, and two more dogs, what is the point. Cleaning is best left for a sunny day after most of them leave. Perhaps in the spring?

[Donna K & Quincy]

Poor Fudge being made the scapegoat. I can see farting and blaming it on the dog but really how gullible does he think you are?  :>)

Fudge looks very festive decked out in her lights and leopard print.