My Weekly B&M

Andy

Gus

I am not a dog person. I know, I hate myself, so save it.

I WANT to be a dog person, but I am shallow and the love I start out with for them soon fades to seething hatred. I know I am horrible. I love dogs when they are someone else's. I do not inflict any physical punishment on dogs, I just give the stare. The OMG-WHAT-WAS-I-THINKING-WHEN-I-GOT-YOU,-YOU-MAKE-ME-WANT-TO-HURT-MYSELF stare. It never works. Dogs don't get it.

In January, after my Daddy passed away, I got my 11 year old son a dog. Cooper was having issues sleeping alone and I was not at that time able to give him the motherly support he needed because I was dealing with my own issues. So I thought a dog would be the answer.

We adopted Andy through the Rescue organization. He was cute in an ugly kind of way, was potty trained and was 4 yrs old. He didn't bark or chew and he was great with the kids. And I hated him. He got on my every last nerve. He had only a couple of irritating characteristics, but I could not get over them.

He was slightly neurotic and wouldn't go outside if it was the least bit cloudy because he was petrified of storms. If he was outside and wanted in, he would jump 5 feet in the air and do this high pitched freak-out whine thing that sounded like he was hyperventilating. This would cause an ungodly amount of slobber to drain from his mouth and the first step out the back door was covered in dog spit. It was unbearable. And it was ME he bonded with.

I tried everything my vet and my friends suggested. I gave him Benadryl and he ran around the house outside 68 times nonstop like a psycho. I gave him herbal dog anti-anxiety pills with no results. He was only happy and good when he was in the house. Right beside me. The one who despised him.

My MIL came over and I offered Andy to her and she accepted. WHOO HOO! Our house was calm and my nerves began to mend. Then my mom called me.

"Find me dog. I think I want a dog."

So, I get online and search the ads and email and make the phone calls to find my mom someone to keep her company. I drive over an hour to pick him up. His name was Gus. He was a shih tzu, black and white, just like our favorite dog, Baxter who met his untimely death when someone hit him with their car. In my yard. Totally traumatic.

Gus was adorable. Playful and at a year old, was over the baby-sitting phase. I was so proud that I had scored so well with this choice. I called my mom to give her report.
"I got you a dog!"
"Really?! What kind?"
"He's a shih tzu, like Baxter was."
"He?"
"Yeah...."
"I don't want a boy."
*blink*blink*

So now Gus lives here. With our family. And Andy.

My MIL decided Andy was too lonely and needed the space to run and basically returned him with no receipt. She decided that she would take no in-store credit and exchange him for Gus.

So now I have 2 dogs.

Two dogs that have chosen to bond with me. Two dogs that follow me everywhere, sit on my feet wherever I sit, whine at the door when I close them out. Two dogs that crunch their food with their mouth open and drink their water slurpily and have it drip off their face onto my hardwoods. Two dogs that rustle and tumble and knock things over. Two dogs that smell and lick each other and hump one another incessantly. Two dogs that are in love. And they have chosen me as their third in their doggie love triangle.

I am officially their bitch. And I moan the entire time.