Monday, January 18, 2010

Quotes From A Weekend

I love dogs. I do. If you're a regular reader of the blog, you'll know that I have two of them. Big, the big brave German Shepherd and the Gator Girl, otherwise known as Superfreak Malinois because that's what she is. And then I have this strange never wavering desire to add to my pack. Yeah, I know. Joe doesn't understand it either.

I want to have an Irish Wolfhound named Seamus. I want to have a pair of Great Danes named Hamlet and Ophelia (because I'm cool like that). I want to have a Mastiff named Jezebel. I'd like to have another German Shepherd named Aodhan and another Malinois (yep, that's right. Another Malinois) named Kaylee. I'd also like to have a Papillion named Sirius because Papillions are so freaking cute.

But since Joe is being stubborn (or, perhaps, smart), we only have the two.

Until now...

This week, we have four dogs in house. My brother and sister-in-law ran off to sunny and potentially warm Florida for a week and their two dogs, a Miniature Schnauzer named Max and a seven month old Saint Bernard puppy named Brewster have come to stay with us.

Again, if you're a regular reader (and thank you if you are!), you'll be very familiar with Max. Joe usually gives him a new nickname each and every stay. For a while, Joe called him Maxi Pad. Then, given Max's penchant for peeing on everything in the house, Joe called him The Little Pisser. This trip, Joe has christened Max "The Creepy Stalker Schnauzer" for Max's tendency to lurk under tables and chairs, just watching, staring and what unfolds around him.

But Brewster is new. This is her first experience into what Max lovingly calls "Hell On Earth." They arrived last Friday evening and I know some of you who were aware of the dogs' arrival probably came out here waiting to read some of the sure to be misadventures that would unfold. And yeah, we had some. But I also didn't have a chance to write about them until now when three of the four dogs are cooling their heels in their crates (which is not to suggest that crate time should be compared to prison).

Things are going reasonably well thus far. We were concerned about Big accepting the puppy because she is rather large and excitable and neither of those things are things Big likes in dogs. But he's been an absolute dream thus far. Our theory is that we have brought this dog into our home and shown her affection and so it must mean he's stuck with her.

The Gator Girl, on the other hand, has found her inner Superfreak Crazy Bitch, now superfreakier and crazier and bitchier than ever! She's taken on the role of Enforcer and is playing it with gusto. It's nice because her corrections have convinced Brewster that maybe she doesn't want to jump on the counters after all or maybe sticking her face into our dinner plates isn't an acceptable choice. It's less nice when the Enforcer gets a little too into her work as she was on Saturday. She was overtired and overstimulated and, well, a Malinois and those three things combined to form a perfect storm of absolute insanity. I think the other three dogs that evening formed the "I Hate The Gator Girl" society. And for a while there on Saturday, I thought about joining.

But it's all right now.

So, here they are, for your reading pleasure, Quotes From A Weekend:


Me: Bru, no. Stay out of my dinner.
Joe: Bru, no. Stay out of that.
Bru: Okay. No people food for me!

Me: Bru, off the counter.
Joe: Bru, off the counter.
Bru: No counter. Check.

Me: What's going on?
Joe: Bru puked in her crate. She puked in her crate, all over herself and all over her bed and she won't sit still long enough for me to clean it up. It's gross and she won't let me clean it up and I need your help.


Me: Mischa, stop it. Mischa, stop it. Mischa, stop it. Mischa, stop it. Mischa, stop it. Mischa, I am going to drop kick you into the partially frozen Saco River if you don't stop it.


Me: Did someone turn on a faucet? Oh nope. That's just Bru. Peeing in the dining room.

(Time Lapse: One hour)

Me: Bru pee in the hallway?
Joe: Yeah.

Joe: Max's escaping.
Me: (standing at door, Malinois in hand): What?
Joe: (pointing to outside): Max has escaped.
Me: Shit. Where'd he go?
(Note to concerned brother and sister in law: he didn't get far and came (almost) right back when I called him.)

Woman in Parking Lot (Re: The Gator Girl): What kind of dog is that?
Me: She's a PITA dog.
Woman: PITA?
Me: Pain In The Ass.
Woman: Oh.

Me: Max, stop humping your sister.

Me: Max, stop humping your sister.

Me: Max, could I get you a step ladder?

Me: Seriously, Max? Stop humping your sister!


So far this morning, apart from the Gator Girl puking in her bed, things are going well. We had some snow last night in which Max (well, all the dogs really) had a good timing rolling around. We have since renamed him the Abominable Snow Schnauzer because that's what he looked like when he emerged from the snowbank into which he'd disappeared. Now, everyone is sleeping (including Joe, I think). Let's hope it lasts a little while.

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