Thursday, June 28, 2012

Big burly, girly

 Last week, I was having a peaceful/zen afternoon. Andy dog and I were outside, playing fetch, romping through nature, stealing strawberries out of the garden like mischievous hobbits. The sun was behind the trees, there was a fresh smell in the air, it was all so pleasant. Andy dog disappears into the tall grass for a small while. Next I hear hacking, coughing noises. I call Andy, who comes bounding out of the tall grass…COVERED IN DEER CRAP! Smothered in it really. 

He’s wagging his tail and hacking on poo, that he has surely got in his mouth. I dread to bring him inside the house, I’m worried he will dash into the living room and roll on the couch. I get the garden hose, turn it on, Andy is now poised to run, I try to hold him by the collar but he bolts like a jack rabbit.
 I yell for my husband to get his butt outside and help me. He tries to wrangle Andy, who at this point thinks we are playing with him.  Covered in nasty, running at break neck speed. Doing that thing excited dogs do, when they run, stop for dramatic pause then take off like a shot again. I’ve got my thumb on the stream of water hoping I can make it reach my poopy dog. He’s avoiding the water like a skilled ninja assassin.
I realize the hose water is probably really cold, we decide to maneuver Andy into the bathroom, I snap on latex gloves, get the Dawn soap and set to work on Andy. Who is regarding the pleasant warm water as punishment for his ninja antics. A week later, our landlords stopped by as their weekend house is next to our place. They had a new puppy, a wriggly, bouncy, adorable puppy. OH MAH GAWD!! So cute, so cute! Andy wasn’t a big a fan. 
 I text my husband about the new puppy and how cute she was. That evening when he arrived home, immediately…”I want to see the puppy!” We go over to our landlord’s place, have them wake the puppy up, because we are terrible people. My husband cradles the tiny sleepy puppy in his big hands.
 He is so in love with this puppy that he is loath to give her up. Finally, we wrestle the puppy from him and go home. He goes directly to the computer and starts looking up adoptable dogs online. I say no way, he says Andy needs a friend. I say it’s too much responsibility, but he knows I’m a sucker. If he brings home a dog, or somehow gets a dog in front of me in any way. I’ll crack, because I’m a complete sap. Heaven forbid he take me to a pound or shelter, I’ll cry and walk out of there with fifty dogs in my arms. So now he is trying to sell me on the idea that Andy needs a buddy.
In the meantime, he is treating Andy like a puppy. Every night he takes Andy outside  before bed, after which he dries Andy’s paws with a towel.  The other night, I watched as he wrapped Andy in a colorful beach towel and sang a silly song to him.

   I know if we get another dog, I’ll end up being the one who takes care of it or cleans it when it rolls in poop. But it’s like fat people and cake, I can’t help it when they’re right in front of me!

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