Last week Doug and I kept our doggie niece and nephew while Mary Jane and Mike enjoyed a week-long cruise in the Caribbean, where they had the perfect weather we were denied on our own cruise. The dogs are cute, loving, and sweet. Spooky is a fourteen-year-old miniature poodle. He has been Mary Jane’s baby since he was a pup. We’ve kept him several times before for a weekend, and all went well. Daisy is a recent addition to the family. She is a little black Chihuahua mix, or a chi-who-a-who-a, as they are known in our family. My cousin’s wife Janice once saw the word in writing and innocently, and quite seriously, asked, “What is a chi-who-a-who-a?”
This is the same Janice that once showed up in the middle of the night standing in our bedroom wearing nothing but her underwear. She thought she had gone into the bathroom. When she turned on the light, Doug and I sat straight up in bed, and there she was. “Oh, my God!" she cried before running from the room. She returned to the guestroom and woke David to tell him to pack their bags; they were going home! Meanwhile, Doug and I kept laughing so hard we couldn’t go back to sleep for hours because one of us kept shaking the bed in a new fit of giggles. Janice is a good sport, which is a good thing because our family never lets you live something like that down.
Daisy just showed up at Mary Jane’s house, apparently abandoned. Now she clings to Mary Jane and exhibits signs of attachment disorder. After MJ and Mike left them here on Saturday morning, Daisy cried nonstop the rest of the day. The only time she would quiet down for a brief period was when she was on my lap. In fact, Daisy gives new meaning to the term “lapdog.” I got very little done all week as she was not content unless someone was holding her.
Spooky recently had cataract surgery. He is still blind in one eye and deaf in two ears. Calling him does no good whatsoever; you have to go get him. He has three different eye drops and two pills he must have every morning. He takes the pills embedded in peanut butter, which he loves, and he wants them as soon as he wakes up. If they are not forthcoming, he complains loudly until he gets them.
Old age seems to have affected Spooky’s mind. He seems to have forgotten what it means to be housebroken. We would let him out each morning as long as he wanted, and then he would come inside and immediately poop on the rug. Sometimes he did it three times in a row. (At least it wasn’t runny or messy!)
Daisy is used to sleeping on MJ’s bed, but Doug wouldn’t hear of it. We put her in Casey’s old crate at night. The first night I left the crate upstairs where it is warm, but she cried for hours – loudly. I ended up putting the crate in the basement where we couldn’t hear her. I turned on a small heater for her down there.
Theoretically, crates can be used for housebreaking, as dogs do not want to soil the small area where they sleep. No one explained this theory to Daisy. The second morning, Doug got her out of the crate and took her outside without noticing that she had pooped all over the crate. (You would think he would smell it; maybe he didn’t want to notice so he wouldn’t have to clean it up.) Anyway, Daisy came and jumped on the bed with us and curled up next to me without me knowing she had slept in a poopy crate all night. At least now I know that my new quilt washes well.
I removed Daisy’s sweater and halter and gave her a bath in the bathroom sink. She stayed fairly clean until the last night when she did a repeat performance in her crate.
Meanwhile, Spooky learned that I put food for the big dogs outside on the porch. Never mind that he always had food inside – he wanted the other dogs’ food! He constantly went to the door and cried to go out. I never knew if he really needed to go or just wanted to look for food, but given the accidents he’d already had, I didn’t dare not let him go. When I wasn’t holding Daisy, I was taking Spooky outside.
At least I could let Spooky out and wait inside until he came back. Daisy had to be taken out on a leash after she ran from me twice. Once she ran down to the garden near the road, and the other time she went up behind Mama’s house. I ran after her calling, but she ignored me. When I went up the hill after her, Spooky followed me. I picked Daisy up and Spooky started following me back down the hill. About halfway down, he changed his mind and went back up behind Mama’s house. I called Doug to come and catch Spooky while I took Daisy inside.
About midweek, Spooky got sick, probably from eating the big dog’s food. He vomited all over the kitchen floor.
I have a confession to make. Casey has been gone for three years now, and I have missed him terribly. I had begun to think we should get another house dog. Doug said he didn’t want another one. I had hoped that having Daisy and Spooky here all week might change his mind, but it had the opposite effect! I now realize that after a certain point in your life, you don’t want to take a dog outside early in the morning when it’s 7 degrees. After all, one of the biggest perks of being retired is being able to get up when you want to.
Sunday was our last day. When we got home from church, we took Mama to her house. I went in with her while Doug went down to take the dogs out. After talking with Mama and Daddy a while, I went down to our house, walked in the door, and stepped in poop. I just shook my head and thought it a fitting end to our week. We have always called the dogs “puppy dogs” even though they have long since ceased to be puppies. Doug has now dubbed them “poopy dogs,” and poopy dogs they shall remain from now on.
We were going to Athens for the next two days and took them home to their mama. Daisy was overjoyed when she got home. Spooky would have nothing to do with MJ at first. He was clearly mad at her for leaving him all week. But by the time we left, both dogs were happily back in their mama’s lap.
Mary Jane and Mike say they want to take us out to eat for our trouble. I’m thinking filet mignon at Longhorn’s.
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