The Dog is having a bad day, and other dog adventures...
There is no dog food sale that justifies the constipation the dog is going to suffer when you change his food...this is probably the main reason our dog is having a bad day. Well, that and the fact that my husband banished him in the bedroom with me because he wouldn't leave my stepson's dog alone...our stepson's dog's name is Stella and she is in heat (boom chicka wow wow) for the first time, but it could also be that she has a shiny new raw hide bone...but either way, Mr. Max has been forced into exile upstairs with me because he could not keep his opinions to himself...that he likes the ladies and he likes their treats...
Max is clearly unhappy with this turn of events. In his mind he has been the ruler of the house for the last 10 years and survived the addition of a new dog 3 years ago, making this dog (Brutus) his subordinate.
Now he's "bad dog, bad dog Max!" and is perplexed on how this happened. I'm lying on the bed struggling with the after effects of a flu shot, (They say that getting sick after a flu shot is a myth, but this is the third year in a row this "myth" has happened) and I'm not too sympathetic to his plight, although he doesn't probably realize it as I'm trying to get him to stop whining by feeding him my saltines..."please stop whining Max...please stop...shut up...SHUT UP...dammit dog!...here's a cracker." This sequence of events goes on for several minutes until I've had enough, drag my carcass to the door and let him out. Almost immediately shouting can be heard downstairs and two minutes later the dog is back upstairs, and sitting with his head next to my ear...whining...
Max is a bichon frise which is french for "you paid too much for this dog." He came as a gift from my mother to my daughter years ago, but it was not a love connection. Max simply prefers other males, like my husband, as company.
Right now the dog doesn't realize it but I'm the best friend he's got...because no one in the house is going to put up with his crap...literally...I'm the chief dog walker at this establishment...I'm also the person who begs my husband for a few more bucks when Max ends up at the Vet;
Me: The vet says the dog needs 10 teeth pulled, and he has heart problems, but he thinks he can save him for 700 bucks...
Husband: What can he do with 200?
Me: We can get a group cremation and possibly a nice urn...
Husband: What does the urn look like?
The last time Max was at the Vet, we truly thought it was the last time...but it wasn't, Max went home with a prescription for laxatives, and we ended up with a bill for 170 bucks and for a while there was peace in the household...
Right now the dog is miserable but the tone of his whining has changed, and I realize that he's trying to communicate a new message with me...(What's that Lassie? Timmy's in the well? Whose Timmy? It was a TV show that was decades before you were born...)Nope, this whine is definately not for another cracker. I hook Max up and out into the neighborhood we roll, armed with a poo bag for Max, and a (vomit) bag for me...it takes a few minute but the job eventually gets done, but, they say no good deed ever goes unrewarded and this time the dog has poo stuck on his butt and is going to need a bath but there's apparently no one else in the house whose going to do it...When I came back after walking the dog and yelled, "can somebody help me, he's got pooo..." the house went strangely quiet...so now it's me and the dog, in the tub, and the dog is squealing and shaking water all over me...and I'm swearing...when suddenly my husband shows up at the door with a glass of wine...
Me: For me?
Husband: No, for the dog...where's your Xanax?
Me: Why, do you think I need it?
Husband: No, everyone in the house that can hear you needs it...
Max eventually calms down, and I make my way back to bed for a long winters nap when it suddenly occurs to me...I left the box of crackers on the bed...and the subordinate was left alone in the bedroom...this is going to be a long, cold night.
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