I couldn't leave my dad's psycho dog alone for two weeks, being let out twice a day and then back to the solitary confinement of their house. As a dog lover, it is just plain cruel, even if he's a little asshole. He's nipped everyone in the family. When he comes over I have to barricade the steps off. I don't have an extra gate so I must be creative. In the past, he has been so tenacious that he's leaped over barstools, small bikes and copper coils. As soon as the tick-tack-tap of his long nails clatter up the stairs I know my chances of languishing in bed are over. Snowflake is usually in that touchy state of near waking. Once he gets upstairs he likes to sit in my room and lick himself loudly. This destroys any plans of sleeping in as my co-sleeper's radar is bleeped and he smiles and says,"Yash?".
This time it would be different. Last night I did it right. Using a barstool, a laundry tub and a half deflated helium balloon, I foiled his evil plot to escape from the kitchen. I'm so glad I had that balloon. We were at lunch last week and the owner of the joint pawned it off on Snowflake, as is. I couldn't say no. Now, in it's semi flaccid stae, it was my ally. It worked!However, my barricade did not stop that furry freaky mess from crying and barking at 3am to come upstairs. He finally quieted after 45 minutes and started again at 7am.
A couple of years ago I went with my mother to Petco to get his shots. We were standing in line and ahead of us was a burly woodsman with his young son and their German Shepard puppy. The kind of flannel wearing man who has tufts of hair growing out of his ears and a beard to match. The little boy couldn't keep his eyes off of Yasha.
"Dad! Look at that dog! Wow! He is soooooo COOL! Look at the way his tooth sticks out," he exclaimed as his father looked on in manly Northwoods disgust. He was a backwoods man who would never own a furry, fluffy toy dog. Way too warm and fuzzy for his type.
If he only knew that within the body of this white flopsy mass, beat a psycho heart very close to his own.
2 comments:
Little dogs can be so funny. Must be the Napolean complex.
My parents used to have a white Maltese named Snowball. A kid named it, go figure. Anyhow, the dog died, they got another white Maltese and yes, named it Snowball. They got their come uppance, though. This dog is freakin' crazy. She tries to attack people when they're LEAVING the house. I finally caught on to her craziness and tested a hypothesis. When I talked nice and sweet to her, she growled and snarled. If I talked to her loudly and menacingly, she was cool. Shogun and I got a good laugh.
I think I'll always be a big dog person though. i'm so used to Maggie & Khyber. They weightyness is so solid and reassuring.
Hilarious! I'm torn...I love dogs big and small. I eyed an add for Bullmastiff puppies this weekend and thought about making the drive. Then I grabbed ahold of myself and held back. I've always had pedigreed dogs and I think maybe I should get one from the pound this time around... I don't know. People are intimidated by Charlie and confuse him for a PitBull. To me THAT is hilarious. Weekly I'll hear, "Nice Pit!" And I say "Thanks, he's a boxer" Sometimes I just let them think he IS one.
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