Despite the number of emails and inquiries I have received asking whether I do, in fact, need bail money, the answer is no, thank you. I am not in jail. I am not in jail, nor have I been abducted by aliens or kidnapped by a cult nor am I lost on a hunting trip or shipwrecked or anything else remotely interesting.
Instead, I have spent the better part of the last two weeks chasing after dogs. Yes, dog[s]. Plural. I maybe told you we adopted my sister-in-laws Yorkshire Terrier, right? Did. His name is Buster Brown [we added the "Brown" part. I hope you don't mind, Kathy.] I’ve also been doing a lot of hollering, “no”. A lot. No, don’t steal each others rawhides! No, don’t gnaw on each others jugular!
[I interrupt this blog to point out the irony that happened just right this minute now. I'm listening to some tune-age at Deezer.com -- which, might I add, I'd highly recommend for your listening pleasure at work -- and guess what song just came on? "Too Many Puppies", by Primus! Which has exactly nothing to do with actual puppies, but weird timing, right? Anyway, back to my rant. Thank you.]
No, DO NOT stick your head through the spindles! No, get out of the window sill! No, don’t lick that! No, DO NOT eat the furniture! And most frequently heard in my house over the past two weeks: NO, WE DO NOT POOP/PEE IN THE HOUSE! Generally followed by, “GET IN YOUR CAGES” or “OUTSIDE!!!”
Sigh. It’s been kind of a long two weeks y’all.
But I’m feeling more optimistic this afternoon than I was this morning. This morning, when I was upstairs brushing my teeth and over the sound of my electric toothbrush I heard;
runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrun.
Which, when performed by two small dogs on ceramic tile floors, sounds like:
clackityclackityclackityclackityclackityclackityclackityclackityclackityclackity.
Hmmmmmm?
Curious I run down the stairs & peep into the kitchen, where the two of them are gated.
wagwagwagwagwag,
because we’re not doing anything. Hi.
I head back upstairs & resume brushing.
crunch,crunch,crunch,crunch *CRACK* [repeat approx. 4x]
Hmmmmmm? *gasp*
“AHHHH!” I holler. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Don’t ask me how, but I suddenly instinctually knew, “YOU ARE EATING MY KITCHEN CABINETS! STOP EATING MY KITCHEN CABINETS!.”
For the next ten seconds, I hear:
[silence.] THEN
crunch,crunch,crunch,crunch
I ran down the stairs, screaming like a mad woman into the kitchen, where they are, indeed, chewing bits of wood off of my ANTIQUE cabinet! Long sharp shards of wood resembling shanks.
and they were looking at me, wholly delighted.
So I stabbed them. Well what would YOU DO?! [oh, no I didn't]
wagwagwagwagwag.
I quickly called Harold, “What does a psychotic break feel like?” and that is when he told me to call the salon & schedule an appointment [Hi Kelly!] to get my hair cut this weekend. [Well, it helps me cope.]
So I chucked gingerly placed the puppies into their respective cages and darted out the door before Millie started to whine. Because, did I mention that they would much prefer to be running amok in the house chewing things up & pooping on the floor? Would. So when you put them [particularly Millie] into their cages, they whiiiiiiiine.
Like this:
Whiiiiiine. Whimper. Whine whine.
That is what she does, with increasing volume, and with those big, puppy dog eyes filled with sadness. And, if you don’t notice this heartbreaking display, like if you are, I don’t know, asleep, or busy or trying not to notice, she will continue with the whiiiiiine. whimper, whine whine until you are DEFINITELY PAYING ATTENTION, and you will begin trying to channel Cesar Milan for wisdom and Job for patience.
And this is what I go through, every day.
Oh, oh, but the plan: Okay, see, so for the issue of using the house as their own giant toilet — we’ve consulted our vet and they assure us that keeping them in their cages until housebreaking has happened is indeed not cruel and is IN FACT necessary! Good news. And that under no circumstances should we resort to wee-wee pads, which encourage pooping in houses NOR should we allow them any opportunity to go potty IN OUR HOME! I have clinical back-up now my little 1′ tall, furry friends! Haha!
Additionally, a friend told me about a seemingly miraculous invention, KONG toys.
Apparently you stuff these things with treats like peanut butter and cheese singles and it mentally and orally stimulates your pet to QUIT EATING YOUR EXPENSIVE BELONGINGS. Supposedly it keeps ‘em busy for hours. HOURS y’all! Because, lets be honest, they’ll have a lot of those in lock-down. I’ll let you know how that works out for us.
So, I’ll hop on tonight & post their precious little pictures [um, not at home at the moment. <wink>]. In the meantime, please send suggestions and prayers for both my patience and my haircut. Thanks!
