What. Are. You. Going. To. Do. About. It.

It's been a very rough one and a half weeks for all of us, dogs AND humans, in our humble abode. Sonya and Preacher must have thought that our long absences and undoting presence were personally directed toward them. No matter how much I tried to explain to them that our frequent and constant departures were for a critical, unwelcome situation they just don't want to accept it.

Preacher wasn't as bad as Sonya. He just moped, hung his head, and tucked his tail when it was time for me to leave the house again. Sonya, on the other hand, was raving mad! Four days ago, after they'd been fed and been outside long enough to do their thing, I was in the bathroom getting ready to leave the house again, Preacher wouldn't leave me alone! He nudged me, whined, paced around me, just being generally restless. He finally got me to follow him - you have to have a pet who lives with you to know when you are being beckoned - out of the bedroom. And there, smack on the middle of the carpet, were balls of turd dropped about every foot from the bedroom door to the end of the hallway. And it's a loooooong hallway, at the end of which sat Sonya, so prim and straight, staring right at me. If words could convey what possibly might have been going through her mind, these are how they might go: "Yeah! WHAT. ARE. YOU. GOING. TO. DO. ABOUT. IT."

Silently, without even looking at either of the dogs, I picked up Sonya's retaliation, one by - [gag!] - one. Call me a wimp, call me a sucker, call me wrapped around their phantom dew claws; how could anyone blame them for their action? 5-Star Scotty hadn't been home for six days and five nights, and I had been home only a handful of hours each day for six days. These poor dogs, who are so used to LIVING with their humans, have a routine of potty breaks, walks, and playtimes, that was suddenly disrupted so dramatically. I'd say I'm lucky they didn't bite me!

If you don't live with your pet, then you wouldn't understand and appreciate how they adore and worship you. So much so that if/when you start neglecting them, they will do what any human child would do as well! They will do anything, and I mean ANYTHING to get your attention, whether it be something destructive (yeah Sonya, I'm sorry, I'll clean up your poop, and I won't even complain of the smell...), or just purposely being in your way. Case in point, [click] Sonya, refusing to get out of the way of the vacuum...

When all is back to normal, I owe these dogs a year of NO BATHS, NO NAIL TRIMMING, daily TWO HOUR WALKS, LIVER AND STEAK FOR DINNER, and DAILY THIRTY-MINUTE RUB DOWNS.

But we all know that ain't ever happenin'. [Shhhhh! Don't tell Sonya or Preacher.]

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Preacher! I'm Gonna Kill You!

Preacher:
Uhhh, hi Mom. Yeah... I found this... you know, just sitting on the very, very, very edge of the table.

Preacher:
Okay, okay! It was in the middle of the table, not on the edge... Sonya made me do it...

Sonya:
You kitty cat! When are you going to learn that all it takes are airplane ears and sad puppy eyes to get Mom to see reason?! Gimme that!

Preacher:
I have good news though. Yesterday I ate your credit card statement.

Mom:
Like that's going to make the the bill go away!


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