I’ve given you the horror-tour of wallpapers, but haven’t really properly introduced you to our dogs, have I?
This is probably because you only know us through the internet. If you were our real-life, in-person friends, it would go more like this:
Well, you’re going to read about them today, because I need to vent. Our current foster dog is something of a trial, and our “real” dogs were already in hot water before he showed up.
We have two greyhounds, because Husband says that is the correct number of permanent greyhounds for our home. I disagree with that assessment, but since I don’t want to resurrect his “live on an ark” accusations, I’m letting it go for now.* We also foster and occasionally welcome back past fosters for visits when their owners go away on vacation, because fostering means I get to meet some really remarkable animals and sometimes I miss them.
But two is the number of permanent greyhounds, and that’s the way it’s been for a while: one really amazingly good dog and one incredibly silly but catastrophically bad dog who has the funniest ears and knows exactly how to snuggle me when I have a migraine.
Now, can someone explain to me why, when she gets into the trash while we’re gone, the brindle brat insists on leaving the drippiest, nastiest things on their pillows? I could mop up the floor easy enough (I mean, there’s the carpet in the kitchen and the breakfast room** but the rest is simple hardwood) but nooooo. She’s got to let it sink into her damned pillow so the whole thing has to be taken apart and put into the wash.
ME: …. Not that I should clean this up. I should leave it. Because they are BAD DOGS who don’t deserve pillows!!!
HIM: … Who are you talking to?
HIM: They’re in the basement. Hiding.
ME: I just need to yell, okay? That’s my release valve!
HIM: Okay… It just worries me when I find you shouting at the walls.
The thing is, they don’t only inconvenience me. But even when I manage to get someone else to deal with them, somehow I still end up hassled.
Example: it’s rare, but sometimes one or the other of the hounds needs to go out at stupid-early in the morning; this has just occurred, but I prodded Husband and got him to let them out so I could continue on with the sleeping.
HIM: (grumbling) …Still dark out, can’t believe you made me go outside
ME: No, you chose to go outside. I asked you to let the dogs out. You didn’t have to go with them; you’re allowed to pee inside.
HIM: I had to poop!
* You may recall, Husband originally decreed that the correct number of dogs was zero. Because he is a Cat Person.***
** oh, you thought I was kidding about that? How cute!
*** We also have three cats, and remind me to tell you more about them sometime: Baby Cat, Little Man, and Stupid.