Labradoodle & Goldendoodle Forum
My title may be a bit melodramatic and I will leave it to you to decide after you read my blog. Most weekend mornings, you will find me getting up with the dogs and letting them out to do their business. As often happens with Type A individuals, I have a hard time delegating responsibility and seem to feel that no one does it better than me. I know that the dogs like to go out the front door first and then explore the backyard next. They then go back to bed when the exploring is done and usually sleep for a couple more hours. Since this is the time I get a lot of stuff done, I don’t want their schedule messed up. My neighbor recently got laid off and he is out in the yard every morning at the crack of dawn, which means Vern starts his watchdog duties earlier than I would like and I am looking forward to when he gets called back to work. Sometimes, he lets his cat out very early, which is like Christmas for Vern, since Vern has a mild fixation on Mittens, the cat. I also have tried to keep the other members of the family down on Saturday and Sunday mornings, so when they go back to work I don’t have two dogs wanting to go outside and watch someone do yard work or wrestle before I have even had my morning oatmeal.
Over the years, I have tried to lessen my standards of excellence, but have been let down on too many occasions to completely relax. I like the doors to be locked at night, the lights off, water in the dog bowls, and kids and dogs safely tucked in at night. When the dogs go out in the morning, I like them to be supervised, because I have seen their handiwork when left to their own devices. The two of them together are like some kind of canine demolition team if they spy a chipmunk going into the stone wall. One minute they can be lounging about in the sun, being good as gold, and I round a corner with the lawn mower and come back to find large sections of our stone wall knocked onto the ground. Sometimes, the chipmunk runs out of one section while they are digging and escapes, but it doesn’t seem to matter to Fudge and Vern. They can do more damage in a matter of minutes to our yard than Miley Cyrus does to my eyes on her swinging/licking music video for Wrecking Ball.
I have stressed and stressed to all family members to keep on eye on them when they are outdoors. I walk a fine line with threats of divorce if something happens to one of them, because I once told John if he went bald I might just leave him, and he asked the girls to pick up a can of Nair for him at the store. Now, before we go any further, I like bald men, but sometimes I just like to see if John is paying attention to what I am saying. I also have to be careful with instructions, because if they get too involved, I lose him early on. Take the time I sent him into the store to buy two bags of ice and told him to pick up a newspaper on the way out the door, and he returned with one bag of ice. Upon further questioning, he stated that I had thrown too many things at him at once and he only heard me say one bag of ice. I still was sure he understood about the dogs though, because I have said it enough times and I truly believe the old saying, “do what I say or I will just keep saying it,” had some value to him. I was wrong again and imagine my surprise when John got up with the dogs on Saturday, let them out, then returned to our bathroom to take a shower. Since I was still semi-sleeping, he might not have been caught if I had not heard barking outside. Even though I was only partially awake it quickly occurred to me that he could not be outside supervising two dogs and in the shower, too. I was hoping it was some other dogs outside when I yelled into the bathroom, “are the dogs outside, because I hear barking?” and I could tell by the sounds coming from within the shower stall that he knew he was busted. He got out of the shower and went to call the dogs and the next thing I know he is back in the bedroom frantically getting dressed and by dressed, I mean he threw on a pair of pajama bottoms and the rubber boots by the front door.
It turns out, while he was lathering up in the shower, Vern had pushed through the deer fencing and was now at the neighbor’s house trying to introduce himself to Mittens. Our neighbors have a meticulous yard and wonderful flower beds, so the thought of our huge Vern plowing through them in his quest for glory, quite frankly, scared the crap out of me. By the time John got over there, Vern was seated quite nicely staring longingly at a hissing cat. At some point we are hoping that Vern will realize that not everybody has to like him and give up on the cat, but this morning when Mittens appeared in our yard, he tried again to force an introduction as Mittens ran up a tree. Fudge does not like it when Vern gets out of the yard and it really was her shrill bark that alerted me to something being wrong. Even from my bed, I could almost make out, “dad did it again….dad did it again!” I really think Vern is more worried about getting in trouble with Fudge than with us. John said when he tried to get Vern back in the yard; Fudge was waiting to correct him. It must be a female thing, because I was waiting at the door to correct John and I still have to give him credit, he blamed the whole thing on Fudge and Vern. Vern, because he got him in trouble by getting out, and Fudge, because she blew him in.
If I am truthful, I will say that these moments of superiority and being right almost always make my day. Nothing makes me happier than to be up on my mighty pedestal spouting my virtues and making myself an example for how things should be done. The only trouble with my theory is I had better not ever make the same mistake, because it can be a painful fall off of my lofty perch. Among my preaching about how hard is it to count two dogs out and then two dogs back in, I have also spouted off that it will be a cold day in hell before I ever forget one of my dogs outside. I learned recently that the Devil not only wears Prada, but probably wears a Prada winter coat, too. Sure enough, I let Fudge and Vern out and thought I had let them both back in. I went back to the bedroom, worked on my computer, took a shower, blow dried my hair, and from time to time, heard a little banging noise, but didn’t pay it any attention. At one point, Vern came and stood beside me and kept staring at me with a sad face. I just figured he needed some attention and gave him a scratch or two behind the ears. I never dreamed that he was alerting me to something else. It was only after I stepped into the dining room and noticed Fudge on her hind legs, banging on the window, that I realized I had left her outside in the rain. I ran to the door, opened it, apologized profusely to Fudge, who was wet, but happy that she had been rescued. Fudge danced and pranced all the way back to the bedroom, licked me over and over when I put her on the bed, and wagged her tail in forgiveness. She then promptly fell fast asleep. Luckily, we were the only ones home at the time this happened, so I’m asking all of you to keep my secret. I’ll lose a lot of leverage if word gets out. Just another benefit to having dogs….they know when to keep their mouth shut.
Comment
Your secret is good with me! I think we have all had those "secret" moments and keep them very quiet! You are definitely still on that "pedestal" with me Laurie! Very cute blog and having two Doodles has to be the best fun of all!
I can just picture John in the PJ bottoms & rubber boots trying to get Vern away from "Mittens"....I swear your life is a sitcom, Laurie.
As usual, very funny. I'm afraid that on occasion I've forgotten I put the dog out or fallen asleep on the couch and left him there for quite awhile. Luckily he is a forgiving sort.
Shhhhhh..... I'll never tell!
Donna, LOL...whatever do you mean? Thank you! Poor John....he gets a lot of corrections :)
Laurie, no one would ever accuse you of being melodramatic. :>) Loved the blog, and you waiting to correct John, best line ever.
Thanks, Janie. I have seen that little Jilly in action :) She would give Vern a run for his money :)
Bonnie, Thank you!!
Thanks, Gail. Keep my secret:)
F, I miss you. Hurry back. Thanks!
I love how Fudge corrected Vern and you were there to correct John! Lol Jilly is the one to correct Jack although Jack never does this with her. Maybe it is a female thing! And oh poor Fudge!! We all must have done that at one time or another.. maybe not in the rain.. : )
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