Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Mischief & Mayhem

Dear Mia,

Remember how I wrote that post about our four dogs and how much you're going to love them?  Well, they might not all be around by the time you make your grand debut.  To say they've been driving me and your Dad crazy would be an understatement.

The fun began in early December when instead of snow we got rain.  Daily.  Our backyard turned into a mud pit and each of the little monsters just LOVE to dance in the mud, track it all around our house and leave little muddy prints on our furniture.  They show no remorse.  I tried cleaning their paws each time they went outside but do the math... 4 dogs x 4 paws each + 1 pregnant woman on her knees = a LOT of work.  I even tried to fence off the muddiest part of the yard in hopes that they would congregate on the greener parts of the lawn.  This works for the little dogs but Toby just jumps over it and I've done such a good job getting Buddy to a healthy weight that he can actually fit through the new fencing!  Your Dad thought that last part was hilarious.

Despite their antics, I bought all of the dogs bones for Christmas.  Toby and Buddy got extra large, candy cane-shaped ones that I made them eat outside.  I watched them both chow down for a little bit and then went out to retrieve them.  Toby came in willingly and handed the remaining bone over to me.  Buddy gave no indication that he was ready to come in so I let him stay outside.  Then I sorta forgot about him.  By the time I went out and checked on his progress, Buddy had completely finished his enormous bone.  Uh oh.  That night he puked no less than five times.  No more bones for Christmas.  Momma learned her lesson.

And here we are in January.  A week or so ago, your Dad accidentally left the pantry door open when he came home for lunch.  The dogs helped themselves to an entire box of Captain Crunch and some other random non-perishables that were within their reach.  But there was no puking, so I didn't care much.

Fast-forward to yesterday night when I get this call from your Dad on my way home from work: "I left that pantry door open again and they ate two boxes of cereal."  And then this text: "And now he's puking it up.  I hope he dies."  Based on how distended his stomach was, we determined that Buddy ate both boxes of cereal all by himself.  He was HUGE.  He didn't throw up very many times before bed, but I wasn't convinced that I wouldn't wake up to that horrible gagging sound, so I locked him in our bathroom overnight.

He kept me up ALL night long.  I would hear his little nails click-clack on the tile, then a WHOOSH as he plopped himself down, then the sound of struggle as he tried to find the strength to get back up.  More click-clacking... more WHOOSH...  and then at 4:00 am he rammed the gate.  Head-first, bull-style.  The gate came crashing down and he barreled into the bedroom.  I took him outside for a bathroom run, cleaned his muddy paws (see above...) and locked him back in the bathroom.  6:30 am he rammed the gate again and made his escape.  Another bathroom run, paw cleaning, and then I went back to bed while your Dad got his day started.

To top it all off, one of the dogs peed on the carpet TWICE this morning.  Two little puddles of love.  One spot was in the living room and the other was just inches away from the brand new bouncer that your Dad and I recently assembled for you.  I would have gone ballistic but I was so late for work I only had time to clean up the mess and gate off that room.  (See, that room is usually gated off but I had taken the gate upstairs for Buddy.  I think it was all a conspiracy to drive me insane.)

For the dogs' sake, we better hope things calm down tonight.  I wouldn't mind going one day without mud tracks, puke or pee inside.  I just texted your Dad to see how the house was when he went home for lunch and he said everything was fine.  Let's hope it stays that way!


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