Well, it’s officially fourteen days since Pepper and Joe were found huddled outside our friend’s front door and twelve days since they came to live with us and annoy the heck out of Tigger the Dog. It has not been a smooth transition but then smooth is boring. Or at least that’s what we’re telling ourselves.
We’ve set up a routine that everyone is mostly on board with; breakfast at 7:30am, treats after each bathroom visit, dinner at 6:30pm, lots and lots of cuddles and ball throwing throughout the day. The only variation to that routine was Friday, when I fed them at 7am and left the house for work and Pepper and Joe sniffed out the hidden Valentine’s Day candy, ate it all and earned a trip to the vet complete with lovely medication that forced vomiting. Having these two in the house is like suddenly having a moving toddler, you have no idea what is a problem until they find it and show you. Every time we go anywhere in the house, it’s like a parade and we’re the Grand Marshall. And, since we got Pepper and Joe collars, there’s a jingle jangle to accompany the pitter-patter of their feet as they follow me upstairs and downstairs and to the office and to the kitchen and to the bathroom. Like, a serious parade. Tigger the Dog and Pepper have at least one scuffle a day while Joe watches them totally confused. Both dogs have had visits with the twelve-year-old neighbor girl who is dying to adopt them. We’ve gone on several very long walks – which is like Joe’s Vietnam with cars attacking from all sides - and made it home each time with all dogs intact and several bags of smelly poop. Speaking of poop, there is A LOT of poop. Like everything that is going in is coming out times two. And when they don’t poop, they pass gas. A LOT of freakin’ gas. And it is a noxious gas that covers the room in a thick green haze of taste-able odor. We’ve taken to lighting candles in the hopes of burning some of the odor. We’re lighting A LOT of candles. If you hear about a house blowing up in Nashville from a suspected gas explosion, um, that might be ours. But for all the pooping and gassing and scuffling, there are times where we are in stiches from the silly antics of the Terrible Three. Yesterday morning, a herd of eight deer made their morning commute down the hill in front of the house. Tigger announced their presence first. A sharp bark followed by a Chewbacca type gurgle from the front window. Joe unfurled his legs from his cramped position and ambled his way from the back room toward the front window. Pepper, from her corner of the hallway right near the bedroom door where she was waiting for Husband to wake up, perked her ears up and trotted down the hall toward Tigger whose gurgle was now a full on bark fest. Joe climbed up onto Tigger's bed, both of them seated at attention facing the herd of eight wandering slowly across the road and down the hill to the side of the house. I stood behind them, watching and Pepper, unable to see and too wary of Tigger to step onto the bed, stood on her hind legs next to me, ears at full perk, her front left paw on my thigh peering over the dogs. The moment she spotted the deer, all hell broke loose. Deer outweighed the threat of Tigger and her Mean Girl antics so Pepper jumped up on the bed too and they all went to town barking their unhappiness at the violation of their yard space. If this were a concert, this would have been the crescendo at the end with the every instrument banging away. Pepper leading with her high-pitched yip, Tigger filling the noise in the middle and Joe rounding out the bottom with his surprise baritone. For the next ten minutes, the three of them ran around the house, from window to window, sharing their ire about the intruders in the yard. They were so loud that the deer could hear them through the double pane glass and would freeze every few moment to be sure they weren’t about to be attacked, prolonging the barking concert. A highly entertaining moment, despite it being 8am on a Sunday morning - mostly because Mean Girl Tigger the Dog and Pepper were united in a common goal. So that’s our life of late. Three dogs and poop and gas and poop and ball throwing and gas and poop… We’re exhausted - and very much in danger of falling deeper in love… Crap!
5 Comments
Q.D
2/8/2016 11:14:46 pm
How can you possibly split up the 3 Stooges now? And how old does the neighbour girl need to be to employ her as a dog walker a couple of times a week :D
Reply
ej
2/9/2016 05:59:37 am
The neighbor girl has a dog she's already not walking. I think the 'cute' factor will wear off before long. And yeah, splitting these stooges up now will be an issue... UGH!
Reply
Karen
2/9/2016 12:24:01 am
Hilarious!!!!! Could absolutely picture the combined pandemonium, lol. Farts should calm down once their poor malnourished systems are used to their new food. Boxer males = gorgeously, gormlessly harmless - will join into the 'naughty' without having a clue that they are being badly behaved. That's what boxer bitches (or Pepper) are for - pushing the boundaries :-)))) Thank you so much for looking after these poor babies.
Reply
ej
2/9/2016 06:05:36 am
OH. MY. WORD. The smells - so so SO dang bad. And it's like a horror movie because we hear the "pssst" of the fart release and then slowly the fumes overcome us and we have to stop breathing. And it's snowing outside so can't air this place out. DYING!
Reply
Karen
2/10/2016 12:18:47 am
LOL LOL LOL - oh my. That brings back memories!!!!! They can clear rooms in milliseconds! Leave a Reply. |
AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
April 2019
Categories
All
|