There is so much love in our house. I love dogs. Percy loves carrots. Drake loves sighing dramatically. Haas loves to snuggle. I thought about writing a sappy love letter about the dogs and my school and home kids but it has been a weird week, so I’ll just tell you about something that made me laugh. I love laughing so I am counting this as a love letter.
Oldest Child is smaller than Haas. That didn’t stop him from plopping his big ole butt on the kid’s lap. I could see the dog with one knee sticking out below and a teenaged elbow to one side. Before OC ran out of oxygen, Haas slid off the kid’s lap but trapped underneath him was the jacket holding the elbow along with the rest of the kid. It turns out that my kid can’t lift something that is of equal body weight.
Naturally, as any experienced and responsible parent would do, I laughed. “Help! Get off! I can’t move!” I heard. I laughed some more and, as the kid attempted to slide away, the giant Haas paw held the kid in place for the other two to slurp all over the kid’s face.
Oldest Child made it out with only a little dog slobber and none the worse for wear. I don’t think OC will admit to such a mushy emotion but that kid definitely felt loved.
I think Drake is cheating on me. He’s been kissing his groomer. I guess I’m not too devastated, though. I do have two other dogs who slobber all over me.
I suppose Percy is my main doggie squeeze (big surprise if you know me or have read a post or two, amirite?). He was here first of these three and was the only one who was supposed to be my dog. Drake was supposed to be Youngest Child’s. Apparently, I was sorely mistaken about YC being ready to take care of something capable of independent action. That kid can grow plants like nobody’s business.
Technically, Haas is Dad’s but that is really only a weekend and daylight gig. Haas’s affections are split between Mom, Dad, and Mima. He’s his own island.
Drake is different from the other two. He isn’t fond of people. He doesn’t seem to fear them or actively dislike people. He just isn’t interested in them unless they are touching his fence. Those dudes are worthy of his big boy barks.
Drake seems to love me, though. He and Percy take turns sprawling all over me when I am seated. It hasn’t always been that way. For the first six months after his adoption, Drake was quite stand-offish. I could pet him but only if I went to Drake. He didn’t come to us unless it was to go outside. He seemed quite bonded with the other two so it was fine.
Gradually, we noticed Drake spending more time with us and begging for belly rubs. Now he spends the majority of his time with his belly exposed and head hanging off the couch looking like a possessed hyena.
Imagine my surprise when I went to pick Drake up from his first solo trip to the groomer (he normally goes with Haas) and she told me he was very good and gave tons of kisses. I bet it was the tummy rubs during bath time that won him over. I’m glad he feels comfortable with another human.
So here’s my “deep thought” for the week. Percy is easy to love because he will love you first no matter what. He won’t even give you a choice. Drake is easily overlooked. You have to love him first and for a long time. Is one type of love worth more than the other? For a while, I thought the one I had to work for was more precious but I don’t think so now. They are just different. Both types teach me something. I will love those (human, teenager, and canine) who love me first and unconditionally. I will also remember to work at showing that same unconditional love so I can have more Drakes in my life.
The boys and I send you love and hope for a beautiful week. Come back soon!
I’ve written before about how helpful the boys are when I am struggling with anxiety and depression. I don’t write publicly about it often but tonight I felt the need. My boys mean more to me than I could ever express through written word. Part of that is because I don’t share the less happy stuff. People have enough to deal with in their own lives. Most people would rather read about the happy, silly, guess-what-my-weird-dog-did-this-time ramblings.
Tonight, I need the dogs. To be truthful to myself, I have needed them quite often lately. I even tried to sneak a visit with one of our counselor’s handsome therapy dog. Unfortunately for me, he was out of the office. As always, I will make it. Self-doubt, irrational fears, feelings of inadequacy, and various personal demons are always there and I have enough tools to get by. I am blessed in that I can function and the horrendous days are rare. The dogs help me be who I need to be.
It still amazes me, even after all these years of having dogs, how loving and helpful they can be. I’m sure they are responding to unconscious body language and aren’t actually reading my mind. They are sticking even closer than normal lately. Percy keeps an eye on me and it is rare for me to be seated and not have physical contact with at least one of these furry friends. I love them even more for that.
They don’t expect me to be happy and energetic. Sure, a good game of fetch and catch is a highlight but they also seem happy to kiss my face and just sit for a chin scratch. As I sit and write tonight, I have either Drake or Percy right in my face and have received multiple kisses. I won’t even fight to keep Haas in his own bed tonight because I know I will rest better with him there and feel better tomorrow. They are here. They accept me as I am. To me, this is beautiful. This is worth cleaning up another puked up sock or a destroyed set of blinds. It’s worth holding a 95 pound dog down to apply eye drops or find a new way to trick picky eaters to take a heart worm pill. It’s worth the terrible because I have the terrific when I need it.
I hope you get to experience this same selfless affection from a dog, cat, or hyper-aware goldfish. If you are struggling, I hope you feel better soon. I appreciate you and I know you are a pretty swell person, whether you know it or not.
Saturday was an eventful day. Percy the Pain was back with a vengeance and we celebrated one year with the other two terrors.
I was hoping our one year Gotcha Day with Drake and Haas would be nice and snowy as these three can’t get enough of the white stuff. Instead, we just got a thin coating of sleet so they are still waiting for fun and winter games. To keep the disappointment low, I headed to the pet store for new toys. This provided the perfect opportunity for Percy to get in trouble.
While Mom was gone and Dad out of the room, Percy drank Dad’s coffee and was caught picking his coat pockets looking for cigarettes. Obviously, we don’t let Percy have either nicotine or caffeine. He doesn’t even get second hand smoke as Dad goes outside for that terrible habit. Percy was in so much trouble he almost missed out on Gotcha Day festivities.
Mom is a sucker though. Percy got to enjoy homemade pupcakes with his brothers. The boys all got new toys for about 20 minutes until they were utterly destroyed, but I think they all had a good time.
I can’t believe it has been a whole year. The two rescues have changed so much. Drake is no longer standoffish and wants to snuggle with and smile at Mom as much as possible. Haas is still convinced he is a lapdog but is much more confident and has become quite the escape artist. They are all expensive and a lot of work but I am sure glad they came into my life.
Garbage Gut. Fat Baby. Bottomless Pit. If it has to do with eating, the name has probably been applied to Percy at some point. A few times a year, Percy causes himself gastric distress. Last night was one of those nights. Poor Percy. Poor Mom who had to clean it up.
We try to monitor what Percy eats because if we didn’t, that would be all Percy did. He doesn’t sleep, but the boy can eat. It doesn’t even have to be food to disappear down his gullet. He eats socks, nativity sets, sharpies, homework, grade books, slippers, trees, and anything else not nailed down. All of these things seem to pass right through.
Yesterday, whatever he ate must have needed an express ticket out because we were all regretting his poor choices.
At 2 am, Percy’s whines woke me and the smell that hit was more effective than my morning coffee to get me moving quickly. Haas was resting just outside Percy’s crate as if he were taking care of this poor boy. All 3 went out while Operation Crate Clean commenced.
When I was finally able to lock everyone back up and try to get an hour’s sleep, Haas decided the rules didn’t apply to him and he stole my bed. He takes up substantial bed real estate.
I guess I couldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to sleep next to Percy either. Poor Drake. He had to hang out with Percy. Maybe Drake needs an extra treat tonight. I know I need one! I sure hope Percy learned his lesson this time…but I doubt it.
I still think they are worth it but I hope it doesn’t happen again for a long time.
I’ve never been one for New Year’s resolutions. I gave up my half-hearted attempts in about 5th grade when I failed, again, to keep my desk clean and organized. I’m good with goals, though. I dig the connotation that goes with “goals.” If I meet a goal, I get a reward or something.
This year I want to put my goals out there for a little accountability. It also provides an excuse to write another list, so, win! Add in the dogs and it is a double win!
Have at least one dog pass the test to graduate group obedience classes. Drake and Haas are now the bad boy bunch with Percy causing minimal issues these days. I would love for Drake to stop hitting and for Haas to not eat my home from the foundation up. Obedience classes should be a great start.
I am going to take each dog for a walk at least once per week. Hmmm. I think part of my brain may be trying to sneak in a fitness resolution. Fine. We’re not running and absolutely no burpees!
Start my own YouTube channel with anti tutorials for quilting. It would be a “what not to do” so beginners feel better. On second thought, that might lead to profanity which is not a good example for my students. Maybe I will just settle for making dog beds for the demons.
(I like odd numbers and wanted to stop at 3, but my most excellent mother hates them and I don’t want her to either throw things at me or to stop reading so…) I will untie my shoes before I take them off.
The dogs don’t seem to make any goals except to see how gassy they can be before we make them go outside. Do you have any goals for this bright and shiny new year? Let me know in the comments below! Like and subscribe today! (I’m practicing in case I ever start a weird YouTube channel but I would still love to read your goals or reasons not to have them)
Mom said I was in big trouble and I wasn’t getting any bones for Christmas. She said I was horrible and then said words she isn’t supposed to. I guess she was “extremely provocated” like it says in Mom’s book, but I would like to explain. (The book has to do with killing mockingbirds, which sounds tasty so I would take one of those instead of a bone.)
Mom says we have to go in our crate when no one is home so we don’t get into anything that could hurt us. I am a big boy with a big growl, big teeth, and a big bark. Nothing can hurt me. That’s why it’s my job to protect the house. I was only trying to help. I promise I’m a good boy, no matter what words Mom is still saying under her breath. (I also have big ears and I can hear her even when she is stress-cleaning her bathroom. She wouldn’t have to do that if she just went outside like we do.)
Anyway, Dad went to bed. Sometime after Andy Griffith, I heard something in my yard so I had to leave my crate and check. It’s not my fault if I needed to move the blinds. It’s hard to see with blinds and a curtain.
Next, I tried the doorknob. I know how to open the front see-through door. The potty door doesn’t open the same way. I tried to use my teeth but that didn’t work, either.
I was so happy to see mom and, at first, she was happy to see me at the door but then she saw what I did and that’s when the bad words started.
TL:DR — I guess I need new blinds and a curtain rod for Chrismas so Mom is chill again. She says the door still works so that is okay.