I have never addressed this issue here in this journal, partly because...well...I guess I didn't want to admit that it had become a problem. But I'm finally ready to admit that I've really come to the decision that it's time for us to buy a little gun to keep in the house for protection.
Oh I know what everyone says, that a gun in the house is an invitation to tragedy, that it could get into the wrong hands and cause damage, but -- call me paranoid -- I'm tired of coming home and worrying about getting attacked the moment I walk through the door.
I've talked this over with Walt and he agrees as well. In fact, I told him I think it would be a good idea for us to have a gun in the house and a second one to keep in the car as well.
He went off recently to look for guns and couldn't find what I was looking for. All he could find was the big fancy (expensive) guns with all the bells and whistles. I don't want anything fancy, just something very simple, and not too expensive.
Recently my desire to have a gun has become much more a part of my thought process. Several times a day I think that, goddammit, I really need a gun!
I finally went shopping on line, since I couldn't find what I was looking for in town and I had absolutely no problem finding exactly what I wanted so I placed an order.
Yes, I've finally gotten tired of Lizzie's constant leaping and nothing really seems to dissuade her. I recently got the idea of filling a Windex bottle with water and giving her a little spritz, along with a reprimand, when she leaped and that seemed remarkably (if temporarily) successful.
The problem with the Windex bottle, though is that it's (a) big and (b) always in the wrong part of the house when you need it. By the time you've walked down the hall with Lizzie leaping at you at every step to get the water bottle, you've kind of defeated the whole purpose of the spritz.
But at this novelty toy place I discovered on line, these little pistols are very cheap so I ordered several of them. I can keep one in the car to have with me as I open the front door, and one in every room of the house where Lizzie is likely to be leaping on me, or I can actually just keep one on my body at all times. (Bissell has also become a "jumper" so maybe I can start training that out of him before he goes to his forever home.)
So...yeah. I'm gonna start packin' heat. I can have me a cute little pink little Mary Kay gun.
And if this, too, turns out to be ineffective at teaching Leaping Lizzie not to jump, there's always the fall-back plan, putting lead weights on her feet!
What a great time we had this evening. We drove to Oakland for the semi-annual dinner with the old Lamplighter tech crew. The group keeps getting smaller, only 12 of us this time (only one death in the group--the size of the group shrinks by "lives" intruding in on "socialization.") Lots of jokes were told. We laughed a lot. Dinner was fabulous (as always) and we didn't get home until midnight--but it was a great way to spend the evening.
But I'm exhausted and am headed off to sleep. No Bissell tonight. Poor baby is locked up in a cage somewhere at UCD, where he will be neutered on Monday. I know he's scared and very, very unhappy. I feel guilty.
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