Da Boyz

“You guys might not know this but I consider myself a bit of a loner. I tend to think of myself as a one woman wolf pack. But when a friend brought Nook home, I knew he was one of my own.”


“And my wolf pack, it grew by one. So there… there were two of us in the wolf pack. I was alone first in the pack and Nook joined in later. And two months ago, when Nook introduced me to Ludo I thought “wait a second, could it be?” And now I know for sure, I just added one more dog to my wolf pack.” Three of us, running around together, looking for a good time and cheap gas.

To answer the burning question as to the origins of dog #2: he was an accident.

Nook and I had our little routine down. Long run in the morning, he’d do mysterious things during the day – sometimes eat the paper towels and roll around on the forbidden red chaise leaving chunky deposits of fuzz – while I was at work. He’d howl when I came home and pant with disturbing solemnity in my face while I put on sneakers for another long evening hike/run/whatever.

We had a routine at the dog park, too. I’d sit on top of the pic-nic table so as not to be pee’d upon by the weimeraner who’s already stealth-hosed me twice and Nook would run around staring up at trees ignoring all other canines in favor of mentally willing a squirrel to fall on his face (it happened once, he’s harbored abnormal expectations from life ever since).

Several months ago, a fuzzy little brown streak t-boned him while Nook was en-route to a promising looking tree full of arguing squirrels. Knocked from his trance, he seemed to remember that he was a dog again and spent the next thirty minutes dragging his butt around the park at mach 3 with his crazy eyeballs rolling around and his tongue flapping in the breeze. With Ludo hot on his heels the entire time.

Let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, there is nothing more satisfying than an over-exhausted husky struggling to remain upright. That alone is not reason enough to add another dog. Dog’s are huge. Dog’s are forever. Or practically forever.

His owner didn’t agree with this sentiment and fell all over herself to unload him on me. And, come on. He’s stinking adorable. I actually resisted the initial urge to adopt him with a steely determination usually reserved for nutter butters and lotto tickets. But a month later she phoned and said that his new family had fallen through due to his penchant for eating houseplants.

Did I take this as warning?

Well, yes I did.

Did I adopt him anyway?

Yes. Yes, I did.

What follows is instant karma (warning! Shameless g+/Facebook re-post):

This very heavy, nearly immobile pirates chest guards a great treasure.

My couch. There are many like it, this one is mine.

I love it more than I should, but there it is. Shopped hard for it, it was a struggle to get it into the house and, as the Dude would say, it really ties the room together. I consider it a Perfect Thing.  Please note the hole in the near armrest. This is what prompted me to drag the chest over and block the couch in. It had been violated by the dogs.

To prevent the dogs from further violating The Couch, I took aggressive action.

Bought them chewy, delicious distractions.

Wore them out.

Took them with me to pick out the terrible tasting anti-dog repellent that I then hosed the couch down with

and left them alone for an hour and a half…

…and came home to this. *Note – the couch does not belong in the middle of the floor*

*Note – the immobile pirate’s chest didn’t budge.

Evidently the anti-dog spray was a taste sensation.

Rather than murder the dogs, I took them on a death march.

Wore them out to the point where they could barely function.

Let alone stand.

Struggling to remain coherent seemed like the perfect state to leave them in when attempting another unsupervised absence.

Nope.

Zed’s dead, baby.

Zed’s dead.

Look at all of the unmolested toys stuffed with fluffy goodness. It kills me.

Huh hah

They managed to grab that one little morsel of couch and ruin it from their crate, just to spite me.

So now I’ve moved it over even further so that no matter how far they extend their tongues, they can’t reach it.

To those of you who suggested a slip-cover, bite me. How am I supposed to slip-cover that mess. Plus I’d also sprayed the fluffy innards with the anti-social spray so whenever you hover in the vicinity of the sofa, you’re left with an acrid bitter apple taste in your mouth.

I’ve actually started to sew the thing back together to allow for a slip-cover and was making remarkable progress until the needle broke in half yesterday. Call me desperate. I love that couch. We’re like this *thumps chest with passion*.

All of that said, these two mouth-breathers are actually great dogs. And are already inseparable. Ludo’s pretty well-behaved for a brainless 1-year old with zero mobility control and Nook is basically perfect.

Couches can be replaced, if you’re into that kind of thing. I’m going to Frankenstein this one back together if it takes the rest of the summer.

An Update:

The “rest of the summer” turned out to just be a rainy Sunday.

I am aware that it looks as though my couch was attacked by sharks and underwent reconstructive surgery by the hand of someone having a violent seizure. Still. You can sit on it! Slip cover!

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6 thoughts on “Da Boyz

  1. BS says:

    Holy shit! It looks so much worse than I imagined.

  2. jessicaber says:

    You are a very good story teller. The best that I have seen on WordPress so far.

  3. Helen says:

    Wow, look at your couch..lol You really do write well an are great at story telling.

  4. Mom Sonke says:

    The couch itself is a story too. A story that must be told because it’s amazing how Jen came on it. Do tell Jen, do tell!

  5. jessicaber says:

    I could use a good couch story. I am a single mom living in the state capitol of Vermont, going through what in 2 months will be a 7 year long custody battle over one of my sons that I have not seen in that time frame and that fact is humiliating to me as well s painful and causes a lot of grief for me for him, grief that he does not deserve, because he is a beautiful child. Anyway, his brother lives here with me and I am on to my third couch in 5 years trying to make us comfortable and make us feel like we “fit in” even in our own home. The first one was a beautiful floral that my mother gave me. The second one was a puffy, genuine leather, black couch and this one is a sectional that I currently have slipt apart and one piece is on either side of our living room. What I truly want and don’t tell anyone, because this has been a secret that I have been holding during these five years of agony to bring me some peace (5 years we have been in this 2 bedroom apartment) is a white, down filled sofa. I would feel badly for the birds though.

  6. […] won’t talk about the couch. It saddens my soul. I did find an exact replica on Craigslist earlier this month for roughly $800 […]

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