Salome and I have been in a great battle of Physics for nearly 11 years now. She prefers the Laws of Thermodynamics while I am more of a Laws of Motion kind of girl myself. Salome generally operates on a First Law model that is a zero sum game. No one wins unless someone loses. Normally that would be me losing something to Salome through sheer amounts of slobber or dog hair. However, I counteract this with Isaac Newton’s First Law of Motion: An object in motion will remain at constant velocity unless a net force acts upon it. Let me give you some context:

The pooch has clearly decided she’s not moving with us to the next house. She has spent the last week pulling items out of boxes I have just packed and when I place the items back in, she then tears the box apart. And she has consumed mass amounts of styrofoam popcorn. I have no idea what the hell that was about. She got into a bag two days ago and her doggie business has taken on an exceptional colorful quality for the last 48 hour as a result.

As an extra bonus, said styrofoam goodies has given her indigestion which means slobber is christening the ceiling, the walls and everything else that stands still. Between cleaning and packing, I don’t know if I will ever get the hell out of this house as this mad-dog scientist’s evil plan of recreating the beginnings of the universe via a whirling mass of entropy in my downstairs nearly prevents me from exiting the front door.

She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m on to her. Counter measures are under way. Hence, the net force of which I speak. Puppy dog thinks she’s being sly by employing the Second Law of Thermodynamics which states that systems will undergo conversion to a less organized form unless external force is applied. Since Puppy Dog has clearly forgotten the second part of this equation, I feel it my duty to reintroduce it to her. This translates into some sort of system of confinement for the Slobbermonster.

I could confine her to a room, but I remember only too well the Great Garage Escape of 1998 when she tore through a garage wall when she inadvertently locked herself inside, so that’s out. And there’s her crate, but she can get out of that quicker than Houdini no matter how many bungee cords or padlocks I slap on that baby. So I guess that leaves confinement of the mind, yes folks, drugs.  As soon as I finish this entry, the vet will be called and drugs will be procurred.

Hey, she’s stressed. I get it. Moving is tough. Change sucks. But dammit, it’s gotta get done. Puppy dog will be induced into a happy pharmaceutical state of bliss whether she likes it or not. They may not necessarily be helping her, but they sure as hell will be helping me.

I hope one day to call a truce to our war. A form of Zeroth where we exist in a state of thermal equilibrium, but I’m not holding my breath. 

So, tune in next week, as our evil geniuses continue their epic battle for control of the cosmos, once the kitchen has been properly unpacked, the cable has been turned on, and mail service and been re-established.

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