Friday, July 26, 2013

The pitiful trifecta of dog brotherhood

The trifecta brotherhood:  



Little Man the Adopt-a-Chihuahua

We move to a new house, where nothing smells like puppy and no one gets to chew up or pee on stuff.


The big boys (Oscar and Oden) have to be in a crate when they are inside, because the new carpet and dog issue I’m not addressing just yet, but believe me it is coming. 


Oscar, in the biggest crate I can find, tends to lean on the back wall of the crate causing the entire front to lift off the ground or leans to the side rocking everything into an almost roll. He calmly waits for the crate to return to ground stability and then takes a nap.   


Little Man (the Adopt-a-Chihuahua) is constrained by a tether system. (Don’t ask.)


The dog run is on the side of the house and they can’t stand at the back door, eyeballing whoever is in visual range and pleading their case to go in and then out and then in and then out. Instead, every now and then, two sets of floating, alligator type eyes appear at the bottom few inches of the window, but it isn’t the same.


So no one is settled and everything is weird and the hierarchy with the abundance of neighborhood dogs has not yet been established. 


Then, mom disappears, then the inside air conditioning goes out, and dogs have to stay outside in the air conditioned house all the time.

I’m in the hospital making calls like mad trying to get everything taken care of but you can imagine there are some difficulties in coordination.
While the dogs voice their displeasure to the community at large, and my new neighbors plan to set my house on fire, it occurs to me that I have no idea where any of their vaccine paperwork is.


Finally the pet hotel place can get records from the other groomer place and big boys, thanks to a ride from the puppy aunt, get to go to dog camp! (Dog Camp being the title as identified per voice announcement of the location.) 

Little Man is without hope of finding papers.  So he gets to stay in the little kennel inside, with his own personal fan, and my nephew checks up on him.

And here we are today.  Moving, abandonment, hostile neighbors, Adopt-a-Chihuahua has returned to his seven pound bully behavior and all canines are crabby. 

Believe me, I have behavior modification plans getting set up, but I get winded walking to the mail box so I need a minute.

Carpeted stairs to tile floor is still a novelty. Big dogs bound down the stairs, get a good leap and slide on the tile.  If they do it right, they can slide all the way across the kitchen to the door. 

Oscar, has started to increase the level of difficulty in the slide and attempts a flip from belly to back mid-slide. (I’m guessing he is an Olympic hopeful.) He is generally successful and then remains, fixed, on his back in the middle of the kitchen, legs in the air and tongue flopping out. Baring earthquake or fire, he is not leaving until he believes his belly has had adequate scratching.

For now buddy, I’m letting this slide.  (He he he) But don’t get used to it!


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