Heart Like a Dog

The Good, the Bad, and the Oh My God of living with dogs!

If Thwarting Were an Olympic Sport

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If thwarting were an Olympic sport, this dog…

This dog would be a Gold Medalist.

Chocolate Lab

Gold Medal? That’s a flour right? You can eat flour, right?

I’m not sure if it’s intentional or not, but this dog manages to get in my way more times a day then I can count.

Certain times are worse than others.

When I’m in a hurry.

  • I walk in the door with a couple of bags full of groceries and am rushing to the kitchen to put them away because they’re heavy. 

She’s running right in front of me, trying to beat me into the kitchen.

  • I walk in from work and have to pee.

I say a quick hello and rush towards the bathroom with Delilah hot on my heels. I try and get my pants undone and Delilah shoves her head between my legs.

Do you know how hard it is to try and pull your pants down with a dog’s head between your legs?

The other time she’s spot on her game is when food is involved.

  • It is close to meal or snack time and I get up to do something. 

She is right behind me, prancing along, or she stops and waits, standing right where I need to go.

  • When I’m preparing food in the kitchen.

I wouldn’t mind so much if she’d stay in one spot. But no matter how many times I say, “Delilah get out of the kitchen” or “Sit right there” she gets up and comes right back. I can’t tell you how many times a day I say, “Stop licking the floor!”

Last week I found myself saying, “That’s your face I’m TRIPPING on.”

You can’t make this shit up.

Our kitchen is an open kitchen so there’s no way to shut her out of it. Which means you just have to stay on top of it, but man this dog is persistent, and the minute you turn your back, she goes for the gold. 

Yup, if thwarting were an Olympic Sport, I’d have a Gold Medalist on my hands.

Tell me what sport you’d add to the Olympics that your pet would medal in.

This Means Socks

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By now most of you know I’m a big Harry Potter fan. I’ve read the books more times than I can count.

One of my favorite characters is Dobby the House Elf. For those who are unfamiliar with the Harry Potter books (really? I can’t believe it’s even possible. Go read the first book, I’ll wait.)

Just kidding.

For those unfamiliar with House Elves, these creatures live to do work for the families they serve. Typically a house elf dresses themselves in a tea towel, or a rag. To most house elves the worst thing that could possible happen to them is to be dismissed by their masters and the way their master does so is to bestow them with clothes.

In a House Elf’s mind, being presented with clothes is a horrible disgrace. 

Except for Dobby. Dobby wanted to be a free elf and his favorite piece of clothing was socks.

While dogs don’t have the reasoning capabilities House Elves do, I feel there might be some similarities between dogs and House Elves.

Specifically stated, Socks are to dogs like clothes are to House Elves.

Sampson’s been licking at his paws again, it’s getting to the point where the fur is coming off and so the other day I told him, this means socks.

Golden Lab

No Mama, please. I’ll be good.

Do you know putting socks on a dog is a lot like trying to put socks on a kicking toddler? 

Well it is. 

The only good thing? I didn’t have to worry about whether they matched his outfit or not.

Golden Lab in socks

It’s humiliating, but at least the socks match. You should see what she wears.

 

Go, Go, Go

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I’ve come to the realization that I enjoy our morning walk more than our afternoon walk. 

Yes, typically it’s warmer in the afternoon, but warmer/nicer weather usually means we encounter more people and dogs.

On our morning walks, we do have to contend with folks on their way to work and an occasional dog, but for the most part our walks are peaceful and quiet.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard to drag myself out of bed, and motivate myself to get moving.

There’s a lot to be done before we head out the door. The dog’s breakfast has to be set out to defrost, as does the fruit I use in my smoothie. The dogs need their collars and harnesses, I need to get dressed, get my treat and poop bags and grab my phone. (My camera and pepper blaster are usually in the pockets of my jacket.)

True confession.  Poop bags are a pain in the ass for me.  Pulling it out, yanking it off…(oh dear, this conversation just took a naughty turn, didn’t it?)

Hem, hem…back on track please. This past winter I started grabbing just one or two poop bags, loosening the opening and shoving them in a pocket.  It’s much easier when the bag is ready to go, as opposed to standing out in the freezing cold with your nose running from the smell, and having to remove a glove to locate the opening of the bag, in order to pick up a steaming pile.

Luckily the new treat bag I bought has a little pocket in the front and I can shove a couple of bags in there for easy access. I typically load the treat bag for our afternoon walk and because there are limited distractions during the morning, the treats left over from the day before are more than enough.

Last Monday morning after a busy weekend, I rolled out of bed and got started on our routine. Hubby is up when we leave for our walk, but he has already left for work by the time we get back. I wished him a good day and headed out the door.

The dogs chose a route around the block and we had just passed a dog and I reached into my treat bag to reward them. My hands fumbled at my waist, and I gave myself a mental knock on the head, I’d forgotten the treat bag.

Chocolate Lab

She would forget to feed us if I didn’t remind her twice a day.

Then my eyes widened in dawning horror as I realized I also had no poop bags! I began to scour newspaper boxes in hopes of finding a baggie to fit my purpose.

I urged the dogs to move along, “Go, go, go” is the command I use and while I encouraged I was holding my breath as I quickly dialed Hubby’s number. Thankfully he hadn’t left yet so I gave him our location and told him we’d keep walking.

I rushing along the road, “Go, go, go” when Delilah decided to do just that.

So there I stood on the side of the road, waiting for Hubby to bring us a poop bag.

Truth…the thought did cross my mind to just leave it there, but I couldn’t, I mean it was on the lawn of someone who actually waves at me.

Have you ever forgotten an essential item on a walk? How did you manage it?

 

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