Paws & Disorder Chronicles
April 18, 2025
“A true-crime-style comedy series about our semi-feral suburban life with pets.”
Episode 1: Who Let the Dogs Out?!
Lexie’s legacy and the great dog jailbreak of the decade.
Lexie had recently passed—our beloved, small pitbull angel with the softest ears and the kind of loyalty that broke your heart when she left. I was still knee-deep in grief, clinging to the routines that helped me feel normal-ish. We still had two other dogs—both pit bull mixes, full of unconditional love—and on that particular day, it was time for a grooming appointment: nail trims for them, sanity maintenance for me.
After their trims, I realized I’d left some paperwork inside. I left my dad in the car with the dogs, the air conditioning on full blast, and stepped back into the groomer’s lobby, expecting a quick in-and-out.
That’s when the universe decided to give me a gift wrapped in absolute, chaotic joy.
As the receptionist handed me my forgotten documents, a door at the back of the facility burst open like someone had pulled the emergency brake on a Noah’s Ark transport.
I kid you not—30 to 50 dogs came pouring out, and not exaggerating. Imagine the joyful madness of a dog park on free-treat day inside a 12×12 room. Labs, shepherds, poodles, mutts, mop-shaped fluff monsters—and yes, several glorious, goofy, wiggly pitbulls. Tongues lolling. Tails wagging like they were trying to lift off. It was the most beautiful riot I’ve ever witnessed.
One enormous Mastiff puppy rested his chin on the counter like he was checking in for a spa treatment. I was in heaven. And then—just when I thought it couldn’t get better—a chocolate Lab launched herself THROUGH THE AIR. Feet didn’t touch the counter. She just flew over the chaos and into my arms like she knew I needed to hold joy in dog form.
I laughed so hard I cried. It felt like Lexie had orchestrated the whole thing from doggie heaven just to remind me what joy felt like.
The staff were mortified, bless them. Apologizing profusely while trying to herd 40-some-odd maniacs back through the door. I was busy handing out head scratches and calling them all my new best friends. A few of the pitbulls stuck close to me—those big goofy smiles, stocky legs, full-body tail wags like they were vibrating with love.
Just when the crew got things under control, Underdog returned. Same chocolate Lab. Same launch trajectory. Same mid-air confidence. Like, ma’am, this is a Wendy’s.
Eventually, I had to leave before I accidentally started another jailbreak. On the way out, I spotted a scruffy little escapee rolling over for a belly rub near the door. I obliged. Of course I did.
As one of the girls scooped her up, I looked her dead in the eye and said, “This was the best day of my life.”
And I meant it.
Lexie, if you had a paw in that chaos—I felt it. And I loved it.
Episode 2: A Mouse in the House
In which the cats fail their job, the humans panic, and the mouse becomes a legend.
A mouse in the house. Two serial killer cats… nowhere to be found. That’s it—they’re FIRED.
What’s the punishment? Oh, right, snuggles and chin scratches. That’ll teach them.
We tried the humane approach—catch and release. But the furry little intruder was too fast, too clever. And let’s be honest, even if we had set it free, one of the feline felons would’ve dragged it back inside at 3 a.m., like they always do. With love. Half-eaten. On the floor. Right where we step. Barefoot.
Every night, it’s a surprise party of the worst kind—creatures in all conditions, dead or alive, wriggling or stiff. Birds are flapping around the bedroom. Crunch. Chirp. Silence. Sometimes we save them. Sometimes we just bear witness.
Let’s review the guest list: live birds, dead birds, squirrels, snakes, lizards, rats, opossums, mice, giant bugs. Sometimes two or three in a single night. Our housekeeper hates us. Occasionally, we hear a scream and shout from the other room, “What species this time?”
The hallway? A crime scene. Floating feathers. Blood streaks. A bird and a squirrel lie like victims in a low-budget horror film. The bird? Filleted down the chest like some back-alley autopsy. One cat even looked proud.
Anyway… more bedtime stories to come. But that’s enough horror for this Halloween.