“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.
Zed’s dead, baby.
Look at all of the unmolested toys stuffed with fluffy goodness. It kills me.
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.
The “rest of the summer” turned out to just be a rainy Sunday.