Friday, September 24, 2010

A New Level of Garbage-Dog

Max, the beagle, has a nose like no other dog. He is the only dog I have ever come in contact with who actually buries bones and then finds them again. And when the ground is frozen and there is nowhere to bury his bone, desperate times call for desperate measures. I have found many a bone hidden under the bed or beneath a pile of clothes in the closet. One time he dragged a plastic bag under my desk to cover his bone so the other dogs wouldn't find it. He's not incredibly brilliant, but he loves bones. And garbage for that matter.

His love for garbage has recently become a huge problem.

Before Max was my dog, he was my dad's dog. I'm assuming that my dad is just more intimidating than I am because Max's trash digging days were few and far between. In the past month or so I cannot keep Max out of the damn trash! There is a permanent brown, crusty spot on our already doghair-ridden carpet where Max has smashed coffee grounds over and over and over again. No amount of scolding or ignoring, cold baths or locking trash can lids can deter him. I know what you're thinking. Just leave him in the kennel while I'm not home. I just HATE doing that. I sure don't want to be locked in a box all day.

After a particularly awful day of work/school/life, coming home to a dump is not amusing. Gary and I came down to two options: chop off Max's nose or set him into the wild so he can live with his own kind...the Alaskan garbage bears.

I'm kidding. What we really did was rig a contraption to the garbage can so that he couldn't knock it over anymore. And when I say we rigged a contraption, I mean we bungie-corded the trash can to the wall. Problem solved. Until he figured out he could put his precious little paws on the side of the trash can and nudge the lid open with his sweet little button nose and take whatever lovely treat was on top. Which is generally coffee grounds.

So my carpet is a mess, the lock on the trash can is useless, and I can't stop cuddling with my smeagle beagle (who is incredibly clean and soft from all the baths he's been getting) while getting the evil eye from Gary!

The other two dogs are complete angels while we're gone of course. Except for Crimson napping on the couch and JD occasionally losing control of his bowels (which is not his fault, he's old and when he gets excited...well, you know...).

When I'm not at home, I'm at school or I'm working part-time at a daycare with twelve glorious toddlers. I've come to realize that dogs are much like toddlers. You tell them not to do something and they do it anyways. While looking you in the eye. But it's impossible to be mad at them for more than five seconds because they're so freaking cute.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Canine Kiddos

3:00 am:
My boyfriend, Gary's, elbow is gently resting on my nose.
Max, the beagle, is nestled against my chest, snoring abrasively.
Crimson, the retriever, is splayed awkwardly across our feet.
JD, the old lab, is standing dangerously close to the edge of the bed, panting desperately and wishing he could see well enough to jump off.
And I, the lone female, am jabbing Gary in the ribs in a hopeless attempt at waking him up to help JD down and remove his elbow from my nose while simultaneously trying to kick Crimson off my feet and widen Max's nostrils.

Oh the joys of having children! I mean dogs...

My mom is always sending little gifts to my nieces and nephews. One day she said to me, "I realize I've been neglecting your children."
"Uh, I don't have children," I responded.
"Your canine children! I'll send them some treats."
I had to laugh and agree that they are my children. They drive me crazy, but I love them regardless. That's what kids do to their parents right?

At this very moment the old one (JD) is doing laps around the couch and I'm not really sure why, but he's sixteen years old and that probably explains everything.