I’ve known for months that I’d be babysitting my brother’s new doodle, Lucy, while he took the family on vacation. What I didn’t know, was that my “bother-in-law” would suddenly have his job move to California, and he’d need someone to watch his dog, Brock, too.
I was pretty excited about watching three dogs!
Until it actually happened.
First, space is at a premium. —>
(We don’t live in an abandoned haunted mansion–those are sheets to keep Brock’s fur from poking into the furniture.)
Everyone is always looking for food. Yet when you try to feed them, nobody does what they’re supposed to. Gordon (my baby, the big dark galoot) only wants to eat Lucy’s food (strawberry blond puff ball). Lucy, only wants to eat Gordon’s food. And Brock wants to eat everyone’s food.
Sleeping is impossible. Last night we had three dogs and two people in the bed. For about ten minutes. Then Mike moved to the spare room, where he said he felt an icy presence brush his hand.
“And you didn’t come running back to the bedroom?” I asked.
“I’d rather sleep with a ghost than three dogs.”
It didn’t help that Gordon had something stuck in his throat and had been hacking directly into his face.
There’s always one wise guy. All three dogs were excited to go out this morning. Yet when I opened the door, two shot out and Gordon stayed on the threshold. That made going out less attractive to the other two, who scurried back in. As soon as they were in, Gordon walked out.
There is a lot of staring. Oh, the staring. So much staring. You’re petting one of the dogs? The other two will stare and then climb over each other to be sure you notice they could use a scratch as well. Staring at the door to go out. Staring at the door to come in. Staring at anyone dumb enough to be in the kitchen near the food. Staring at the bed they’re not sure they can jump into because, A. they’re small and B. there’s another dog positioned strategically in the “landing zone” to keep other dogs from hopping up and being close to the people with the nice scratching fingers.
You have to be an Olympic athlete to move from one room to the next without tripping and killing yourself. I feel like celebrity, because both the smaller dogs like to be near me when I walk and escort me wherever I go. And by near, I mean they like to pretend they’re my feet. Every time I move from one room to another, Lucy shadows me, and her soft fur feels like someone is stroking my calf with a giant cotton ball with each step. Which isn’t all that bad, really.
So when you’re enjoying your personal space today, be sure to think of me! 🙂
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