It’s official. I have survived my first week with my new crazy family. And let me tell you, the jury was still out as to the extent of the craziness when I last hijacked this blog, but it isn’t anymore. The verdict is unanimous. They are certifiable.
But the family is growing on me. They each have something going for them. Little Sophie is probably my favorite for now because she plays with me all the time when she’s not watching this silly show called “Malcolm in the Middle.” And she has some very tasty looking stuffed animals in her room. Chloe is the first human to take me out early in the morning and although she won’t be winning any prizes for her warmth and fuzziness, she’s showing signs of improvement and is very earnest in her efforts.
My new human papa is usually the last one to walk me before my bedtime. But he runs hot and cold. One day he picks me up to hug me when he returns home after work; the next day he completely ignores me. He remains an enigma. And as for my new human mom, she means well but what can I say? She studiously tries to avoid helicopter-parenting her kids, but she’s totally helicopter-parenting me. On the positive side, she’s willing to look like a complete jackass running around the yard with me, which earns her some extra credit points.
I’ve experienced lots of new things since my last update. Some of the highlights:
(1) The crapper my new mom made for me is really too nice to be a crapper. I can’t get myself to poop on it. You see, I like massages. And the crapper is like having a spa in my own backyard. It’s a permanent hot stone massage, without the hot. It’s just so relaxing to wiggle my body on those rocks with my feet up in the air, letting the fall breeze course through my fur. Mom keeps trying to get me to use the crapper in the way it was intended, but it’s a lost cause. Give it up, already!
(2) I met my new vet. She treated me like a king and I rewarded her in kind by staying calm. Frankly, I was terrified. But I didn’t tremble or squeal or cry, not even when the good doc put a thermometer in my butt.
(3) I have now been subjected to daytime crate imprisonment several times this week. It was bad enough having to adjust to sleeping in it at night, but I did it as a good faith gesture. And I’m not sure my new human parents appreciate what a priceless gift (as in Mastercard priceless) I’ve given them. I SLEEP THROUGH THE NIGHT IN MY CRATE, GODDAMMIT! No need to take me outside to go potty at 3 AM. Do they get it? Do they? I don’t think so. Because if they did get it, they wouldn’t “reward” me by sticking me back in the crate during the day.
(4) Speaking of the crate, I think I’ve figured out the meaning of the philosophical question “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?” I now only whine in my crate if my human family is in the house to hear me. Because if no one is there, I’m the only one who hears my sound. And that doesn’t count. And plus, my whining gives me a migraine.
(5) I am a very lucky puppy to have a human family that is so clueless about puppy-raising. They have brought in Laura the trainer to help whip me into shape. Normally, I’d really resent my family hiring an outsider to come train me. Am I really that difficult? I don’t think so. But in this case, I think I’ve hit the jackpot. Laura gets me. She treats me like the man I aspire to be. And she gives me little bites of hot dog as training treats. I’ve practically mastered “sit” and “focus” already. I am under her hypnotic spell and she’s my first crush. Laura, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul…
(6) Still having a tough time with that dry dog food. It doesn’t taste awful, but it’s crunchy and not at all juicy. I think my new human mom has cut back on the raw food for good. I haven’t seen much of it lately. You should see her face when she has to handle it. She looks like she’s about to barf. Makes me sad.
(7) The only thing consoling me about the fact that the raw food bonanza is probably a thing of the past is that there are so many delectable treats outside. It’s a bonafide Garden of Eden in my backyard. It’s acorn season, everybody. Do you realize how amazing that is? They’re just the right size for my tiny mouth. And even though they’re crunchy like kibble, they are naturally delicious and organic. Unlike my kibble. And the leaves. Oh, the leaves. They’re moist and colorful and organic, too. Unlike my kibble. And I can’t say enough about the grass. It’s green and smells like the earth. Unlike my kibble. You get my drift.
(8) I’m having a very hard time with impulse control. I’m a puppy and I love to put things in my mouth. My new human mom has this wool sweater, you see. And she wore it the other day. And it was so incredibly soft and lovely. I could smell the sheep in the sweater and my taste buds simply could not resist it. My heart told me to bite, bite, bite. My brain warned me to stay far, far away. My heart won out. My human mom’s best efforts to distract me were useless. The sweater now has a few tiny holes from my fangs. I don’t think human mom is going to wear that sweater again – at least not until I’ve had more therapy to cure me of my socially unacceptable behavior.
(9) I have discovered my reflection in the sliding glass door. Remember my comment about Narcissus in my last post? I have since realized that you don’t need a mirror to admire yourself. Window reflections do just fine. Let me say it for the record: I am one handsome puppy. I will break hearts one day. Trainer Laura’s heart will be the first. It’s really a good thing that those Greek myths are just myths; otherwise, I truly believe I’d be dead by now.