Let’s start with a text message I sent to my 22 year old son last night: “I’m taking Satan for a walk. Just go inside if I’m not home.” It was all I could think to do after a weekend of doggie hell on earth. That particularly evil “eye shine” that you can see in pictures of animals takes on a new meaning when you suspect your dog may have escaped from the Village Of The Damned.
Jumping on the furniture, barking constantly, peeing in the house for revenge, throwing up on the dining room rug after eating God knows what,…just the tip of the iceberg. She’s so sweet! She’s so small! How can there be so much evil in one little adorable fluffy ball of cuteness? (How do I insert a gif of joyful hearts here?)
This dog’s need for constant attention has me reading everything I can find on “problem dogs”. Remember that episode of Breaking Bad? I am attempting to ascertain if this dog is merely dominant or if she is becoming aggressive. The words “She’s just a puppy, she’ll grow out of it.” seem to offer little comfort. Our home is under siege. Nothing is sacred. I even caught her trying to pull the tablecloth off of the dining room table last night with her teeth. If she can do it and leave everything in tact, I’ll have to admit it will be a pretty good trick, but I fear that is highly unlikely.
You can see from this photo, that she is truly remorseful for eating the carpet.
I think this is one of my favorite pictures I have managed to snap of my constantly in motion doggie. If you look under the sweet surface, you can almost see the wheels turning. ”Daddy is too busy to finish his big book, I think I’ll help him.”
Never underestimate the power of a good book. According to my dog, they are delicious.
“Can’t we just drop her at the dog park at 8 and pick her up at 5?”- Dear husband says, full of desperate hope. Sorry honey, unfortunately, there are rules against that sort of thing. The dog park, where Daisy can run and be free and get rid of loads of energy from laying around all day, was sadly closed when we tried to take her there on Friday.
Our baby loves to hide her treats and save them for later. Treats as a training tool is a miserable failure for us, so… why not run off with them and save them for when I really want them?, she says. (Why we are giving this dog treats in the first place is a mystery.) First she hid them in between couch cushions, under the radiators, under the sofa. We found Beggin Strips all over the place. Our house is one of those old places that seems to be under constant renovation. At the moment, we have a few small projects that nag to be finished. One of them is the re-hanging of the main floor baseboards. At the end of the hall, there is a hole in the wall, that our little darling has claimed as a treat depository. The Bacon Hole.
What keeps this dog from being sent to the science lab is her ability to be just darling enough to save her own skin. She knows when she has pushed us to the limit. Here are a few examples of rare good behavior. But look at those eyes. How long do I have to keep this up before I can go eat more fringe off of the ottoman?
Here she is, chewing on a ball. But that look!
Of course, we love her to death, and the science lab, the animal shelter, and being tossed into the lake in a pillowcase with a brick are all empty threats that she is far too intelligent to fall for. We are trying, and we move inches closer to a happy symbiotic dog/owner relationship daily. After all, it takes more than five months to learn all the rules. And maybe that glimmer of hope isn’t quite so desperate. As I’m about to hit the “publish” button, I am wearing a pair of flip flops covered with beads (and chew marks) and she is completely ignoring me, playing with her own toys.
That’s a good doggie.