Give The Dog a Bone Already
Our neighbors have five dogs. Two of them are indoor dogs. One is a miniature poodle and I’ve never seen her pedicured pink nails touch down on actual grass. But her roomie, Spencer, is a rat terrier with a spunky little personality. So spunky, in fact, that he has the doggie cajones to come a calling at our front doorstep almost nightly between 9 and 10. Now I love dogs. We have two and we’ve let them and their dog hair infiltrate our lives. But we do not let our dogs loose to do their business. They either go in our backyard, which has turned it into a doggie poo landmine, or at the park (yes, we use our neighborhood park as our doggie porta potty). Spencer is regularly let loose to “do his business” and he has the audacity lately to demand treats from us during his nightly pee break. So, what’s the big deal? Well, Amelia’s room is by the front door and entryway. I cringe and my blood pressure shoots up when I hear his yippy bark out front and I practically throw my back out leaping off the couch to get a treat for Spencer to shut him up before he wakes the baby or Caitlin, whose room is just down the hall. We started giving him treats occasionally a while back and now he holds us hostage with his barking until he gets one. Spencer’s barking eventually gets Bailey, our neurotic female dog, all in a tither and she starts to bark. And, let me tell you, if she starts barking IT’S ALL DOWNHILL FROM THERE as Bailey’s bark would wake the dead. The other night I couldn’t find a treat fast enough, but I was so desperate to get Spencer to shut up and go home that I threw a saltine cracker at him. I don’t know about your household, but when you have kids it is no less than divine intervention to get them both to sleep by 9 and you’ll do anything to keep the peace. Spencer crossed a line last weekend, too, when he interrupted some much needed quality time between me and the hubby. Fill in the blanks.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, the other morning my worse nightmare came true. I was getting ready in the bathroom. Everyone else was asleep.
And I hear it.
The bark.
Spencer.
At the front door.
A million curse words fly through my brain and I clench my teeth.
Luckily he got distracted by some walkers or a squirrel or he sensed my need to kick him into the next zip code and he quit.
I keep having visions of myself stomping out on the front porch in a robe and curlers with a shotgun.
