Dances with Wolves
Just call me the crazy dog lady. Here I am, for the last five days no one to speak to but two stubborn-see-how-far-they-can-push-me huskie pups. Yes, despite the size of them they are still pups. The sis and her husband have left me in charge of the house and the dogs. I’m slowly going stir crazy, although the break has been nice and I’m back to work tomorrow. SSDD.
The dogs meanwhile are a joy. If you are the type of person who enjoys scooping up dogshit or sticking your fingers down their throat to retrieve a piece of foam they’ve been chewing on. Eli, the Lion Tamer. For my next trick I’ll stick my head in Bobby’s mouth – but only after I’ve brushed his teeth.
This morning I let them out after breakfast and went back to bed. At about 8 o’clock there was a ruckus and I stuck my head out the window to see Bobby with both his front paws in one of K’s plant pots digging out the flowers and Cassie egging him on. These two make Pinky and the Brain look like amateurs. By the time I got outside Bobby was pretending nothing had happened that no, there wasn’t a pile of potting soil and 5 plants dragged all around the garden and Cassie was sunning herself by the shed.
‘Who, me?’
I replanted the flowers, scooping the soil back into the pot and cursing at the dogs who licked at my face and barked for me to play with them. When I ignored them Bobby nudged me with his shoulders so that I lost my balance. I swear they were laughing at me.
Bobby with his deep-from-the-guts bark and Cassie who doesn’t bark but makes a noise somewhere between a growl, a yelp and Muttley’s laugh. Either way if I was a thief and jumped the fence to find those two on the other side of it I’d think twice. They’d lick you to death before they’d hurt you but they are strong and as pups don’t quite realise their strength. My two and a half year old nephew plays with them so that will give you an idea of how friendly they are.
My arms are scraped to shit where they’ve jumped and clawed at me. I’m going to go back into work tomorrow and people are going to think I spent the time up to some dodgy S&M tricks.
My clothes are covered in dog hair, I’ve got crumbs of dog food under my nails, there are bits of chewed dog toys on the kitchen floor and I’ve just spend 20 minutes picking up dogshit so the thought of lunch is turning my stomach.
The dogs are sitting under my feet here in the back garden. Occasionally one of them will stretch and push against my legs, gaining more contact with me and pushing the other one away. The garden is huge, but they’ve chosen to sit on my feet.
I guess they don’t hate me that much.
