Every day I scour craigslist in hopes of finding an ad that goes something like this:
"Desperately seeking over-anxious, hip-replacement-surgery-needing, screen-door-slaying, tireless boxer. Separation anxiety and through-the-roof vet bills a must. Non-chewers need not apply. Will pay top dollar."
I have yet to find such an ad. After all, most want ads are for the perfect dog, not your below-average, dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks dog.
He crashes through the screen door just because it's there.
He can't be out in the dog run unsupervised for more than 30 seconds without jumping in the water trough (summer or winter) or breaking off a branch of the now-dead tree.
He is terrified of rat dogs but will happily challenge anyone his size or bigger to a boxing match.
He has chewed two holes in the drywall, while we were home.
He introduced himself to the new neighbors by plowing through the fence and jumping up on their sliding glass door.
He put teeth marks in the siding of the house.
He has come within inches of knocking over our daughter at a full-run.
He's tireless. He may get tired, but only for approximately 33 seconds.
Yet, for all of his faults, I can't bring myself to get rid of him. Thanks to pregnancy hormones I have loaded him into the car to take to either the vet or the pound for them to deal with, but I have yet to leave the driveway. Insetad, I find myself pleading with him. Crying into his fur, asking him why he has to test me on a daily basis. Just when I really am about to call the vet to come pick him up (our vet, for some insane reason, loves him), my daughter, aka his accomplice, will save him. She'll wander over to the dog bed, plop herself down next to him, and lean over to give him a kiss. Either that or he'll snarl menacingly at the creepy door-to-door salesman and save me $20 of unneeded magazine subscriptions.
And now, it is time to call the vet, not to try to pawn him off, but to spend $250 on his medicine. Maybe they will throw in a few tranquilizers for free, seeing as how we have single-handedly paid for the entire staff to spend a week in Hawaii. After that, he will get his second bath of the day before being allowed back inside to sprawl on the carpet, leaving his wet-dog smell wherever he lays.
1 comment:
i wish i could write like you! you are sooo entertaining. I have your blog address bookmarked- and i just love reading what you write. :) just thought i should tell ya! even tho you write about the craziness of life most the time, and i feel for ya!:)
Kels
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