Herd of Turds

Thursday, January 25, 2012

 

I’ve got puppy problems.

And not just a little pee on the carpet, chew marks on one of my shoes problems (although I have those things too…) No, my two dogs have waged a full-fledge war against our family.

Now my oldest dog, a 12-year-old Shar Pei mutt named Homer (I just got a little teary writing that he’s twelve,) has always been a little neurotic. He’s been known to lose complete control of bodily function during thunderstorms. Strange noises like fireworks, the smoke detector and anyone turning on the stove send him into a tailspin. And he’s always had this weird tick where he rubs his nose into the floor until it bleeds.

Okay, so he’s always been a lot neurotic…but since our twins came along things have gotten super strange. 

We were welcomed home from the hospital with our girls by a bedside table that looked like it took a trip through a wood shredder, a Pack n Play de-stuffed on the top, and a closet door with a chunk out of the trim.

Nice!!!!

On top of our issues with our first-born, our younger dog, an approximately 8-year-old shepherd mix named Annie, decided to go a little cra-cra herself. There was that afternoon when she saw a rabbit from our deck and decided to take a nose dive into the backyard from the second story of our house; and we've recently got calls from two neighbors that she's gotten loose and showed signs of aggression.

Fantastic!!!! (That's just what I need - for Bianca to watch our neighbor put a bullet in Annie's head.)

Now that there are three little ones in the house, the dogs get less and less attention and less and less time outside - especially now that Annie is on a strictly inforced leash law. This leads to more and more accidents in the house.

While Homer usually leaves a nice little pile – all in one location, Annie is a little trickier. She either leaves one, individual little gift hidden somewhere (like the day Bianca spent the entire morning on the sofa next to a little ‘present’ before I realized it) or she spreads the wealth.

Annie has always had an odd way of going to the bathroom. She squats (obviously) and then turns in a circle really fast – spreading fertilizer all over the yard. Well when the same process happens in the house, it leaves an interesting sight…like a herd of turds.

This morning I saw Annie beginning her ritual, so I yelled for Chuck. He took her out and came back in frustrated. “She didn’t really have to go.”

It wasn’t thirty minutes later when he came into the kitchen to find Annie droppings scattered all over our kitchen rug. I was sitting at the kitchen table with my back to her the whole time. She didn’t come and whine at my leg, she didn’t scratch at the door; she just went to the bathroom right there in the kitchen.

“It’s your turn to clean this one up,” Chuck said. “I cleaned up the heard of turds last night.”

I can’t even be mad at my dogs. That’s the saddest part. Annie didn’t come and whine at my leg because she’s been trained over the last eight months that it doesn’t do a darn bit of good. I would have just told her, “Hold on. I’ll take you out in a minute.” Then I would have gotten busy with the babies and that minute would have turned into two hours. 

Just like with everything else in my life, if I don’t put the time in – I don’t get the results I’m looking for. And I’d much rather take my dogs for a fifteen minute walk than have to clean-up dog poop.