Chirky

While Eddo was frolicking around the North Shore, I was debating whether I
wanted to ever get a puppy. Or, much more, have children.

This weekend Roger and I house-sat for friends (The Warnocks). These friends
were pet-sitting for other friends of ours (The Shooks). So, when they went out
of town, we got both The Warnock's black lab (Tex) and The Shook's beagle puppy (Chloe).

Tex is a hyper dog, though extremely obedient. If you say "heel," he jumps to
your left side and sits at attention. If you say "stay," he does. If you say
"down," he lays down. If you pick up a stick, he nearly pummels you trying to
get to it, excitedly jumping around until you throw it.

Then he rushes after it as though his life might be endangered if he does not
retrieve, quickly, return it, and force you to throw it again until he's been
running at light speed after it for an hour, is worn out, and has a bleeding
tongue because he has bitten down on the stick and who cares if his tongue is in
the way? He is absolutely delightful!

Chloe is a five-month old puppy, and as such, is a bit unruly. She knows basic
commands, like "sit." Actually, I think that is the only command she knows. And
much like a cat would, she decides for herself whether she wants to be obedient
and actually do what you command. She's little, and she's smart.

She'll chase Tex around, biting his tail and pretending she might actually pick
up the stick and bring it. When she comes within four feet of you, and convinces
you that she understands the concept of playing fetch and RETURNING WITH THE
STICK, she fakes everyone out and runs the opposite direction, proving, "Ha! You
just thought I'd give you your precious stick! If you really want it, YOU MUST
COME TO ME." Then we chase HER around the yard, trying to get the stick, because
she is so stubborn.

On Saturday morning, because 6am is a normal time for her to wake up, Chloe
politely yelped to let Roger know that it was time for her to use the restroom.
So at 6:30, when I heard a dog barking at the side of the house, I was a little
confused. I leaped out of bed, looked out the window, and there sat Chloe, under
the window, yipping.

Personally, I believe that she was just letting us know, "Ha! You just thought I
wouldn't find the hole in the fence that I am the perfect size to squeeze
through! Come get me NOW! Ha!" As soon as I opened the backdoor, she came
running up. Confused, I thought that perhaps I had been hallucinating.

Chloe and Tex came inside while we went back to sleep, because if she's not
outside, she can't get away. A couple hours later we woke up, cooked breakfast,
and put the dogs outside again while we ate. A few minutes later, as we sat down
to eat, Roger happened to look out the window at the neighbors. They were
holding a dog that looked quite a bit like Chloe. Roger asked, "Is that Chloe?"
And when I didn't answer, he said, "Jessica, Is that Chloe?"

Wondering why he was asking me who Chloe was, I wandered into the living room,
saw the neighbor checking her tags, and sprinted after Roger who had already
realized that Chloe had gotten out, AGAIN. Refusing to adhere to the basic
command, "Come," and also the sickeningly sweet, "Chloe! Chloe! Come here,
Chloe! Come here!", Roger had to go get the leash, cross the street, and lure
her away from the monstrously large dogs that were all barking and growling at
her.

Chloe has started obedience classes, I think, but learning can sometimes be a
slow process for puppies. Learning things like "come." Or "don't pee in the
house." I especially freaked when she peed in the house, the house we were
housesitting in, twice. The first time was on a nice rug that was very tightly
woven and therefore very difficult to clean. Of course, to her credit, the first
time it was lightening and thundering outside, and she may have been scared.

The second time (the time that was five minutes after I brought her in right
after she had been outside playing for quite a while and had ample time to make
use of the grassy, expansive space) I tempted her to pee while I was running
water in the bathroom, WASHING MY HANDS FROM PLAYING WITH HER.

She also eats very fast, and then gets sick afterward. The kind of sick that
makes you paranoid, thinking that perhaps you've stepped in dog poo and tracked
into the house. So you start crawling around on all-fours, sniffing the carpet,
and the blankets, and the couch cushions, trying to figure out why it smells so
badly. Half an hour later, you realize, "Hmmm�I can't find where it is coming
from. Maybe I should check on Chloe�" and you see the runny, chunky area that is
releasing all the odor, and you look at your husband like, "Roger. What are we
going to do?"

So we wash all the towels and spray down the kennel with the water hose and vow
to get a dog and send it to boarding school until it is fully obedient and
without these incidences. I think we'll do that with our children,
too.