Who’s Keeping Score?

I am.

Nanook’s reign as the “good” dog is officially over.

What could be worse than eating the couch? Admittedly, it took quite a lot. I loved that couch and wept, bitterly upon finding its’ innards strewn all over the house. Saw red, fantasized about brutally mangling the dogs and sank into a deep depression – the whole 9 yards. If a dog wanted to hurt me, going for the couch was definitely one of the more efficient ways to do it.

After buying The Cage, I’d optimistically assumed that the hurt was over. The couch had already been demolished, everything would be puppies and sunshine from here on out. Only a catstrophically abysmal series of epic fails in short succession could possibly eclipse the couch…

Epic fail number one:

Chapel Hill, North Carolina was recently named one of the most liveable cities in the country. There were no stats available on where it ranks as far as death is concerned. Earlier I visited this adorably liveable town and, being a good dog mommy, brought the beasts so they didn’t have to fester in The Cage while I was gone. The dogs sat very happily on the porch drooling at me with dead-eyed cognitive malfunction. No one was home, Mrs. Torrance. Which is just how I like them.

While hauling a ridiculously heavy wraught iron table, we’d propped the screened door open for two seconds. During those two seconds, the dogs came to life, sprang out and immediately lost their minds.

Instead of coming to me when called like they do every other time, they flailed limbs, tongues a’ flapping with goggley eyeballs and jettisoned themselves directly out into heavy traffic with a glee that I’ve never before witnessed. Death! HELLSYEAH!

Now, I’m a pretty fast runner. I can get soundly beaten at a lengthy race, but on the short, no one comes near me. And when motivated, I can pretty much set aphalt on fire. NOT seeing the two fuzz butts get emulsified right in front of me was fairly motivating so I kept up with them for a block, down a side-street, into an alley and across the next street, and managed to grab Ludo.

I only grabbed Ludo because he came to me. In spite of breathing from the diaphragm and really projecting, Nook refused to acknowledge that I was calling and instead continued to ping around like a bouncing football on crack.

At this point, a lady who’d been speeding down the street in an SUV that I threw myself in front of and begged through shameless hiccupy tears to SLOW THE F*** DOWN had leapt out of her car and was helping me corral that idiot dog to a street corner. Noteably, this street corner was the home of a psychiatric office of some kind, it had zen gardens and concerned looking bespectacled people peering at us through the windows. At one point, a woman ran out and asked me if we’d caught the wolf yet. Nope, get your unhelpful butt back inside, thaaaanks.

I’ve had Nanook for about two years but he’s been a fuzzy source of joy in my life for closer to four. I love his fuzzy little pom pom tail, the way he pants with his head down in a random corner of the house when he needs to go outside (hopefully within view of a human), the way he writhes around on the floor with his legs kicking in the air making gurgley noises when he’s happy, the way he prances around everywhere he goes, the way he races around the dog park staring straight up into trees and somehow not running into any of their trunks and the way that he does absolutely everything that he’s told provided that he is unaware of an alternative. Such a stupid dog, I absolutely love him & the thought of someone running him over or of him being lost was making it difficult to see straight.

(Nanook relaxing on the porch in question).

While I was thrashing around in the woods, crossing a stream, finding a road and making my way back to the last point of contact, SUV lady had managed to find Nanook back over by the psychiatrists office and was running back and forth on the road to keep him in the gardens. I called him again, just because it’s super awesome to call the dog you’ve kept supplied with kibble, kisses and yummy delicious bones for two years and have him TOTALLY IGNORE YOU… except this time he pranced right over to me.

It was emotional.

Much cheering, lots of relief and I was too sweat-drenched and tired to murder him, so everyone won. That SUV lady was a superstar. Nanook…not so much. Although I’m very grateful that he did eventually come when he was called.

Epic Fail Number 2:

I went out this evening and came back kind of early. The dogs had already gotten plenty of exercise and had plenty of time to decorate their surroundings with their number one’s and number two’s (see above and also note that they had two walks after that 3pm rendezvous through Chapel Hill).

The reason I came home early was because I was feeling ill and, upon being sick at the house, I took a shower to relax. What I did not do was take the dogs out IMMEDIATELY for yet another walk. Excuuuuse me for being at death’s door for five minutes when I first came home. I did take them on another walk right after my shower, came back, put on some pj’s, pulled back the covers on my bed and…noticed a giant wet spot.

Because today hadn’t quite been awesome enough.

A dog who can barely hold it in is not going to risk stretching his ab’s by jumping up onto the bed. No. A dog who really has to go and simply cannot hold it for one second longer is going to pee wherever he happens to be standing when the urge becomes too much.

A dog who’s a complete ASSSSSSHOLE, who wants to express an editorial pertaining to my conduct is going to prance around the house thinking about what the absolute worst thing that a sick person could possibly encounter would be while I’m in the bathroom struggling with life. That dog will then come to the obvious conclusion that the absolute worst thing that a sick person could possibly have to do would be to wash her sheets, scrub her mattress and re-make the bed that she so desperately wants to climb into so that this entire day can just go away.

That dog will then leap up and pee on the bed.

Not a massive amount because, again, the tanks are pretty much empty after the day’s many adventures, but enough to soak through the down comforter which I’ve since thrown away, through the sheets and onto the mattress protector.

These are not the actions of a little brown dog who just wants to wag his tail and lick people. These are instead the actions of a scheming, vindictive, domestically challenged Siberian Husky.

I’ve been sick twice since, am still not asleep because the mattress is a little damp from where I sprayed and scrubbed it just to be safe (it didn’t feel moist to the touch, but…ew. Just in case.). Ludo is passed out in my bathroom and Nanook is curled up next to me. Which is kind of sweet.

But, still.

Nanook: 0 points.

Ludo: 500,000,000,000 points.

(Ludo relaxing on the porch. He is not relaxed unless he’s within range to deliver kisses, should they be required.)


One thought on “Who’s Keeping Score?

  1. […] washable comforter. The one I’d bought to replace the real down comforter that he pee’d on earlier this Fall. Hell hath no wrath like a […]

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