Tag Archives: Laura Ingalls

A TV Curiosity

25 Oct

Laura Ingalls has weird hair – despite being in braids all day long, when she goes to bed and wears it loose, there’s not a crinkle in sight.  How is that possible?  Is there something in the pioneer air?

 

The Little House On The Prairie Will Never Be The Same Again

16 Jun
Carrie, Mary, and Laura Ingalls frolic down a ...

Image via Wikipedia

If you’re not a fan of poo, look away now.

I’m watching series 3 of The Little House On The Prairie.  So is the Hub, but I’m only allowed to tell you that if I don’t mention that he loves it.

The Ingalls have a dog called Jack.  An amazing dog, who just helped save Carrie from certain death (death not being a great plot strand in a series aimed at children and soppy Hubs).  Jack is mostly amazing, however, because he never poops.  We never see a squat, a sniff and mooch for the right spot, or a scratch at the door to be let out, quick! before I do it on the pristine floor Ma keeps.   We see the human characters use the outhouse, yet no dog toilet.

I begin to suspect Laura Ingalls never really had a dog – despite the way he warned of the tornado that ruined Pa’s crop – and Michael Landon added him just to keep the Hub watching.

Real dog owners know that real dogs’ lives revolve around poop: when they’re not doing it, they’re filling up to do it later and when they’re not filling up to do it later they’re smelling other dogs’ bottoms to see where it comes from, and other dogs’ poo that irresponsible owners have left on the park for me to stand in.

Not that I needed to go to the park to stand in it this morning: poor Molly seems to have the excremental blues.  She did something that frightened her, and I hope you other dog owners might have an explanation as to why it happened, because I am baffled.

I put the dogs out after their breakfast but, unknown to me, Molly sneaked back in.  Looking out the back door, there were poo blobs (as opposed to proper, steaming piles) dotted all over the garden, which is unusual.  I looked around to find one plop on my rug, and Molly squatting up against the Little House dvd case, obscuring Laura Ingalls.  Talk about defecation of character.

Don’t worry, I didn’t hit her, or even scold her.  It’s not as if she’s my husband.  I’m kissing and cuddling her right now.  It’s not as if she’s my husband.

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