About the Dogs

When I groan myself out of bed every morning about 5 am, Daisy bounds her way off the bed, out the doggie door, and into the world of "Wake Up, People! Daisy is on duty!" She does not step through the doggie door, she hurtles through it, resembling the old Superman movies, the ones where the actor actually bounced on a small trampoline before jumping through the open window. There are so many dogs, so many people to wake up, so much barking to do. Mia, on the other hand, simply relocates from her sleeping palette in the bedroom to one of the other choices throughout the house. Too early; too much noise.

I like dogs; however, while I was a child, the family dog was never allowed inside the home. Dogs were part of the perimeter of the property, their duty to bark away strangers and eat the table scraps. Once the dogs in my adult life were allowed into the house, there was no turning back. It's easier to say "no" a thousand times than to say "yes" once and have to live with it for a lifetime.

Two doggie doings I don't condone are (1) sleeping on the couch--Daisy believes differently (2) sleeping on my bed--she sneaks up after I'm asleep. Daisy has mastered the art of walking along the very narrow window frame of the front window, the window that faces the street. She has found that is the perfect place for her to bark and bark and bark as the mommies walk the children to and from school each day. The good news, however, is that when I tell her to shush, she actually stops barking for a second! If I whistle to her to come inside, she does so, a trait Mia never quite mastered.

Yes, there is jealousy this time, perhaps because Mia is older, more set in her ways, and spoiled rotten. If I rub Mia's head, Daisy wants a rub; if I call Mia for a quick hug, Daisy wants a long hug. They are working it out, so there hasn't been the growling or the biting thing going on, but Mia is not as joyful with this stranger's arrival as she has been in the past when we've cared for other dogs while their owners were out of town.

What set them off yesterday was my return from the weekly big box store shopping, where I buy dog food and, yesterday, some new dog toys and a bed for Daisy. Mia loves the "weiner dog" toy, the long columnar body with a squeeker in one end and a growler in the other. She chews the toy, tosses it about, and brings it to me when she wants to play. Knowing that Mia guards that toy with her best growl and scowl, I bought a hot pink one for Daisy .. and inadvertently started the war. Mia heard that squeeker, raised her head in the direction of the sound, trotted over and stared Daisy down until she dropped it and ran out the doggie door. The pink toy is now on Mia's palette, along with a clear message: those toys, in whatever shape or color, are MINE, especially the favorite green toy, the one wrapped in duct tape.

Yes, I'm adjusting to two dogs, but today will be the first double-duty poop patrol, perhaps my least favorite thing in the whole wide world. Were I rich, instead of so darned good looking, I'd hire the man who literally has a mobile business dedicated to picking up poop! But, I'd also hire the guy to wash the car, the crew to clean the house, and a cook to make the decisions and put the meals in front of me a couple of times a day, none of which is going to happen!

This is the last doggie update as the third thing I find annoying is elderly people who substitute their dogs for human interaction and/or conversation. It's a dog, and we're done writing about the dogs.