The Dog

Anyone want a dog? Beautiful black Kelpie x German Shepherd. Going free to a good home.

Prince Charming will give me a stern look for writing that.

I’m sorry. I do love our dog. He’s cute and friendly and fetches a ball. But really, after my experiences with Wilson, as much as I love him, I will never willingly acquire a male dog ever again. Ever again! He went into respite (aka my Mother and Father in law’s place who spoil him rotten) for a week and we picked him up on Sunday. I was genuinely so excited to see him. I ruffled up his fur and shook him around the head. He licked and smiled and wagged his tail. Then we got home and he trotted out onto the deck and – without hesitation – cocked his leg and pissed all over one of my clean WHITE sheets hanging over the clotheshorse.

‘Send him back!’ I cried, melodramatically clasping the sides of my face to withhold a blood curdling scream that would frighten the neighbour’s children (again).

Prince Charming whisked the sheet away and I have not seen it since.

Cassie, our other gentle dog, would never dream of doing anything like that. She wees very politely, discreetly, and quietly, usually on the grass out the back. The difference in these toileting ‘choices’ must be the dog equivalent of leaving the toilet seat up.

I have been feeling really guilty because ever since having Baby, the pets have jumped down a rung in the pecking order. I’ve been having trouble finding a balance, sharing my love all over the place. Unfortunately the dogs pulled the short straw.

But then this is what I got up to this morning:

Nothing more needs to be said.



3 thoughts on “The Dog

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s