|Heidi, the dachshund and Zydeco, the kindof dachshund|
I recently dog sat for my parents. They have two dogs- a bitchy dachshund and a nutso puppy (that was given to them under the premise of being a dachshund but SURPRISE- he's not). The dachshund, Heidi (aliases: Plumpkin, Ms. Pamplemousse, Fluffy Tater, Heidi Zee) has been a part of our family for years. She has never really been well behaved but her size makes her manageable. The other dog, Zydeco, is a very recent addition and he is the equivalent of a four year old hopped up on Mountain Dew and Pixie Sticks. And he don't give a shit. Please see Exhibit A below. I keep wondering how long it is socially acceptable to say "but he's just a puppy." Four years? Ten years? (Disclaimer- he is just a puppy, 7 months old- but if he doesn't calm down- can we still say that to people?)
|EXHIBIT A. Zydeco felt like my blinds need some sprucing up.|
So during the dog's trip to New Orleans, I told my mom I was going to bring them over to a friend's house for dinner. She let out a sigh and warned me about how hard they are to deal with. "MOM- I'm 30. Some of my friends have kids! They are just dogs. I think I can manage it."
If I die tomorrow, go ahead and put that quote on my gravestone as my famous last words.
I spent that entire night at my friend's house wrangling the dogs. I eventually put Zydeco on his leash and attached it to my chair. I was over it.
Needless to say, the few days with just the dogs and me was quite an adjustment in my life. I appreciate the luxury of only having to get out of bed when I am ready or when Sophie is rude and decides she is ready to go outside before I am ready to get up but those days aren't that bad.
One of the nights dog sitting consisted of going to bed at a reasonable hour, waking up at 11:30 to the sound of Sophie puking, turning the lights on to see where she puked, realizing she had thrown up into my bra on my dresser, washing my bra off, putting Sophie out, falling back asleep, getting up at 1:00 A.M. to put Heidi down so she could get some water, falling back asleep, waking up at 5:00 A.M. because Zydeco was awake and why wasn't I?, falling back asleep, and waking up at 6:15 A.M. because the dogs were up and were ready to pee.
I rubbed my eyes and trudged to the back door, still half asleep, while the dogs went nuts around my feet. Talk about "rise and shine," they really wake up ready to face their day of sleeping and eating!
I opened the back door to let them out and Sophie sat in the middle of the steps. She lifted one cat eyebrow and stared down the dogs. "Yeah?" And they just sat there. Her reputation was well known to them and they were not taking a chance. "Sophie, MOVE!" I wasn't afraid of her (at least not right then). She didn't move. "ARGGGHHH," I picked her up and as she yowled and the dogs made their way outside. I put her down and rolled my eyes. Just in time to see Heidi's butt disappear under my house.
When the dogs are in town, I use an ice chest to block the space under the house to prevent Heidi from taking off. Since I had let pukey Sophie out the night before, I moved the ice chest to let her roam her damp, dark, under house kingdom. This was all a lot for my tired mind to comprehend and my response time was slower than usual.
It was too late. She was gone. I said every four letter word (ie nuts, dang, gosh) as I made my way through my apartment to the front door. I frantically looked for my keys and threw on a pair of running shorts. I panicked as I imagined her running out onto my very busy street (busy with cars and pedestrians) and slammed open the front door to find her in a pointer's stance frozen at the front gate. Half in my yard, half out. She knew she had screwed up. "HEIDI, WHAT THE HELL!? GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE." I slammed down my front steps just as a pristine runner jogged by. She had on a sports bra and no shirt and her six pack was not glistening because she was one of those girls who "doesn't really sweat" (followed by cute shoulder raise and hmmm lucky me face). She looked at me in my very over size t-shirt, bra-less, hair partially up on one side of my head because I slept in a pony tail, running shorts on.... backwards, and face still puffy with the marks from my pillow... oh yeah--- and yelling at a dog who appeared to be doing nothing (just standing there). She made a quick face and ran on her beautiful little way.
I may have been thinking slower, but the juxtaposition was immediately evident.
I picked up Heidi, marched back into my apartment and sighed. I shook my head, fell on the couch and told myself out loud: "Not your best moment, Leila."