Animals are completely unforgiving if you’re having a shitty day you know that? They don’t care if you have a migraine the size of Mt. Everest, are preoccupied with cooking, or for that matter laid up with broken legs. By God, when they want something you’d better just get the hell up and do it, and I mean NOW buddy! If you don’t they’ll sit forever in your immediate vicinity and whine just enough to annoy you into giving them the attention they require. Now this may not be such a problem for you if your pet is either used to being alone, doesn’t have another pet to vie for attention, or you live in a place where there are little if any distractions outside to get it’s attention. For me…well let’s just say I hit the jackpot when it comes to annoyance, because everything you don’t have to deal with I do!
My 90 lb, Pitbull, Sully, is being a huge pain in my ass this morning. He’s thinks himself ‘yard-detective’ and will move from window to window surveying the property and alerting me to anything that looks suspicious…which is EVERYTHING. And it’s just my luck, of course, to live in an old farmhouse with long windows that stretch but a couple feet from the floor. It gives a dog on a mission the perfect view. This wouldn’t be so much a problem if he just alerted me to impending doom from, say…the tractor going down the road because it’s sowing season, the cats moving about the trees, the rustling of bushes by the window…you know, things that are really harmful (whatever!), but no…he thinks he needs to go outside EVERY SINGLE TIME!
This probably needs to be where I chime in and tell you that I can’t just open the door and let him go about his business. No, I have to walk him on the leash out to his chain in the yard and place him on it (no comments from the peanut gallery like “Why don’t you just chain him near the door?” either, because he’s a huge poop-machine…and the rest is self-explanatory). We made the mistake early on of trying to teach him to stay on the property and the idiot literally ran from my husband and straight into a passing truck—and was lucky that all it did was break his tail and scratch him up—so my paranoid husband now refuses to let his ‘baby’ just run. No, so I get to be the one to haul him back and forth…including during the winter!
Okay, so this is my morning: Let him out to go potty. There’s nothing going on so within three minutes he’s barking to come back in. Ten minutes later the trucks start coming…he wants to go back out. The guys park their trucks, get on their equipment and take off over the cornfields and out of sight, so he wants back in. Less than half an hour later the pregnant, sister kitties are moving around outside the windows (the same ones that my husband claims the black bastard that he’s going to put a bullet in raped and left us to raise his brood), and he has to go out again…because God forbid anything interesting be happening outside that he’s not a part of!
Now getting him outside and to his chain when those miserable, tortoise-shell colored, bitches are moving around is nearly impossible. Why? Oh, I’m glad you’re wondering. Let me share…Because they are oh-so affectionate right now, beat feet to rub up against my legs, and the dog is running in circles wrapping the leash around my legs trying to sniff their asses, that’s why! Laugh if you will, but I have literally fallen down on my own ass because of this! I start turning in circles like Mary Poppins trying to unwind myself, gently scoot the cats out of my way at the same time, and maneuver my way to said chain, while having to drag his bottom-heavy butt with me. Now while all this is occurring my male, Chihuahua, Johnny Cash (which we lovingly refer to as simply ‘Hound dog’) is no further than maybe a ten/fifteen foot radius from us and is lifting his leg to piss a little on everything, whether it be stone, tree branch, or strands of grass that are nearly as big as he is. Once Sully see this and gets a whiff, well now he’s pulling me to everywhere that Hound dog has just whizzed so he can mark the spot too. ((Groan!)) Needless to say, getting him on the chain isn’t always an easy task.
You’d think after all that I’d get a break and that’d be the end of it, right? I mean, he’s on the chain, the Chihuahua is roaming the yard, the cats are doing their thing; I should be able to sit down with a fresh cup of coffee and resume cleaning up my emails. Wrong! That dog is a huge PUSS, and spoiled as the day is long. If it’s a bit too windy and moves his ears he wants in. If there’s a bit of chill in the air, he sits and shivers like he’s in the frozen-freaking-tundra, and wants in. If the sun is shining too brightly he pulls his chain taut and pants like he’s just had to run the damn, Boston marathon. And all the while, barking…barking…barking…for mommy to pleeeease bring him back in.
What I want to know is…when the hell did I become their pet? I am at their beck and call: Feed them when they cry, exhaust myself letting them in and out, scoop poop from the yard, have to haul their beds up and down stairs to accommodate whatever room their lying in…because, Oh hell no will my dogs just lie on the floor! Most of the time I end up having to share the couch or my bed with them anyway. We no longer can go out of town for overnighters because there’s no one to watch ‘the kids’…ya-da, ya-da, ya-da. I mean, they control my life! I only wish I had it as good as they do.
It’s now 11:00 am, and I’ve actually been able to pound out this post without interruption. I can only assume the reason is because Sully has found something that’s captured his complete attention and he’s fixated on it, and one of the cats is allowing Hound dog to ‘hump’ it again, which is why he’s not scratching at the door. No rest for the wicked though, and I still have the afternoon to deal with. Now why exactly was I excited about Spring again?