Thursday, June 5, 2008

My life has gone to the dogs

We have a dog. Her name is Honey. Some members of our family not-so-affectionately refer to her as Osama. She can be a terror.

My husband and I weren't really interested in getting another family pet. But when our daughter (who was 10 at the time) presented us with a contract complete with a well laid-out plan of everything she was going to do to take care of one, we capitulated.

Some dogs come from pet stores with registered papers. Some dogs are specifically bred to keep their breed pure. We got our dog at Staters Bros.

When my daughter was home (she's now in college) my husband barely tolerated the dog. She barked too much and when she was allowed in the house, she would run in, barrel up the stairs and it took about 1/2 hour to calm her down. Hence the Osama name.

Now that our youngest is out of the house, the dog has become ours. And my husband now loves this dog. He feeds and waters her everyday. He plays with her in the backyard. He takes her out running with him and lets her in to watch tv with him at night. I've offered - I truly have - to help take care of her. My attempts have been politely turned down. Which is fine with me. I've put my time in of making sure someone or something has been fed.

However, I too have grown to love this dog. My husband Bruce is a National Director of Food Sales and travels to many different states. Which means I am home alone quite often. I don't sleep very well when he is gone. Enter Osama. Honey is an outdoor dog and doesn't get to sleep inside the house. Except when Bruce is gone. And then I let her in to sleep inside my room. My children are embarassed that my life has been reduced to sleeping with the dog. How pathetic they think. That's okay. They won't think I'm pathetic after someone has entered my house at night and Honey has torn the intruder to shreds. Good girl, Osama.

But I think the dog thinks its pathetic too. Because she's not used to being in the house, she walks all over the house. The first couple of nights that I let her sleep inside , she kept me awake because I could hear the clicking of her overgrown toenails walking across our wood floors. I now shut the bedroom door to keep her in. Sometimes when she knows I am going to shut the door, she makes a run for it - to get out while she can!

Soon enough she settles in and makes herself comfortable on our five foot llama skin rug. And I get a great night's sleep. Aahhh...the life of a dog!!! Honey's, not mine.


COMcewens said...

O the life of a dog!! Deb, just dont tell Bush you know where Osama has been hiding out!! Loved the post!!

cookingsherri said...

I was nice to that dog once. It almost bit my hand off.

Grandma J said...

I think the dog-loving thing is funny! I for one, am not. I am glad that soemeone as cool as you, even thinks a dog is cool, maybe I am just missing the gene.

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