After the untimely passing of Indigo, our black lab, the average height in our house dropped considerably. Gone were the days of fencing off the kitchen so that our four legged friend would not counter surf for goodies while we were gone. The large bags of dog food started lasting for months instead of weeks. Indigo was a shedder and no matter how often she was brushed, groomed, even vacuumed - our house had a constant layer of 2-3 inch black fur everywhere. It drove me nuts! But soon the fur finally disappeared. And so the baby gates, large bowls, gargantuan leash and lint brushes were packed away deep in the dogs' closet. The vertically-challenged boys eventually came to an agreement that they would share the duties of the King. The transition was tough for them and the agreement was not immediate. Except for the occasional dog fight a serene quiet and cleanliness settled over our house. And I liked it.
But then I forgot. Being dragged along like a rag-doll on the leash, expensive medications, the never-ending fight to keep her off the furniture (and out of my bed!), coming home to find pieces of our fence chewed all to hell as well as our dogs missing, entire meals being pulled off the counters and devoured...yeah, that was all long forgotten. The irritation of having dog fur everywhere was not even a fleeting memory. Thoughts of the constant drooling that only big dogs can manage (gag!) had faded.
I know that my husband likes big dogs and he knows that I do not. Two little 10-pounders was my idea of the perfect set. But when I saw that longing in his eyes as he played with Ruby - my brother's basset/lab mix - the idea was formed and the madness began. It was a compromise: a medium-sized dog. I found her online at a shelter in Kansas. I have to admit, she was pretty darn cute. And so I made the call and arranged a trip to bring her home.
Fast forward to two months later. The volume of fur has broken my vacuum cleaner. (The replacement part won't be in for another week and I already have the shakes.) The boys have finally started to forgive me for bringing Satan's dog into their home. The counters must all be cleared of anything that even remotely could be ingested (she's much taller than I imagined she would be) and all doors shut. She has separation anxiety so badly that her new cage looks like it was dropped from a vehicle at 70 mph. And although her cage sits under the basement stairs in the laundry room, I'm still waiting for the inevitable citation from the men in blue for a noise violation because she barks that loudly. Also it turned out that she was sick - some nasty contagion that could have killed the little ones and she was heartworm positive. She doesn't realize how much bigger she is than the boys - or maybe she does! - because to "play" she runs at them full speed and body checks them so that they roll about 5 feet. Indy set the ground rules very quickly and so she doesn't bother him much. But I think it's hard to take Paulie seriously anyway, so he bears the brunt of most of her "playfulness". (This triggers that mama bear instinct in me and makes me so mad.) The large bags of food now last for 3-4 weeks instead of 3-4 months.
The memories are all rushing back to me now and it's too late. Maisie will be 1 year old in a week and so I'm settling in for the long haul because it was, after all, my stupid idea. My husband is so happy - he spoils that dumb dog like you wouldn't believe. I've thrown my hands up when it comes to her discipline...it's a losing battle. It's also hard to convince him why my rules are different for the boys vs. this 50 pound monstrosity. But they are very different. In fact, I told him, we all need to get used to Paulie and Indy not be classified as dogs anyway. They get up on the furniture, they sleep in my bed, I take them places when I can and I even make them homemade treats on occasion.
I'll admit it - as guilty as I only sometimes feel about it - I'm not a big fan of the new dog. I've come to this conclusion: I'm not a "dog person" like I always thought I was. There are other dogs that I love of course - Charlie my labradoodle nephew, Mason my min pin nephew, Zoe my mini schnauzer niece - but I'm not around them as often as I'd like and that is probably why I still love them dearly. I'm relatively certain that I am just an Indy- and Paulie-person. And that suits me just fine.
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