I woke up this morning and thought ‘Today is the day.’ Today felt like it was going to be the day that I finally turned a corner with the new addition to my family – 15 week old Buddy, an ever-expanding mass of cuddly fur on four legs. I woke up to a gorgeously affectionate and warm cuddles, interspersed with tender little licks on my chin and the frustration of yesterday’s leash-training all but disappeared.
An hour later, Buddy safely back in his bed in the kitchen, I hopped into my car and off I cruised, starting to plan the rest of my day. Ideally, it was going to go something like doctor’s appointment, swim, an errand or two, home, playtime, coffee time, paint wardrobe, playtime, lunchtime, walktime, wash car, coffeetime, training, cook dinner.
The first four items on the list happened as planned. Humming to myself as I turned the key in the front door, I was thoroughly happy with my day so far - and to cap it off, the sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky (a rarity, trust me!). When the door opened, something wasn’t quite as it should be though. Why would there be a little puddle by the front door? Puppy’s in his bed, it can’t be… And then the smell hit me. As my eyes traveled upwards they met a mass of semi-solid semi-not-at-all-solid brown, smelly ‘matter’. It was only as I went to roll my eyes that I realized the full extent of the carnage. He had obviously tried to re-inact some of the Andrex ads he’s seen on the tv, you know, cute puppy playing with toilet roll? Let’s get one thing clear – this dog is no Andrex puppy… so the end result was NOTHING similar.
Andrex | VS | Buddy |
Reams upon reams of toilet roll littered the carpet, chewed to pieces.
My gut reaction was to follow the stream of toilet roll back into the bathroom, ignoring the clothes he had dragged out of various rooms. Logic kicked in when I realized that he obviously pulled it out of the bathroom while scampering on to his next target room. Which was where exactly?? I looked around the hall – all the doors were open. A little voice in my head said ‘Well, at least the gate on the stairs is….closed?’ Or not. ARGH!!!!!!! ‘The little sh!te could be anywhere!!’ I paused to gather my thoughts. Silence is ominous in that kind of situation.
‘Buddy….oh Buddy….Buddy Buddy, there’s a good boy, Buddy…’ Nothing. Not a peep. They say that the only way to get a puppy to come to you sometimes is a constant stream of babble, and never let the anger show in your voice. So, as I cooed and called, my knuckles whitened around the handles of my swim-bag. I tried again. This time, there was a bump. A bump from where though? Upstairs. It seemed my worst nightmare was going to start unfolding right before my very eyes. I had visions of the legs on the piano being chewed, my guitar in tatters, pool cues splayed all over the room, every one of them with teeth-marks…
So, with dread rising from deep within my stomach, I started on my ascent of the stairs. There he was, sitting in the middle of the room, ears pricked up, someone’s sock hanging out the right hand side of his mouth, lip curled up on the left hand side, exposing his little canines – the ultimate picture of mischief. And he looked at me as if to say ‘What???? All I wanted was a sock!’
He’s in his bed now. Firmly secure and the puppy gate is well and truly shut on the kitchen. The house is clean and my nerves have recovered. I think in about an hour I’ll love him as much as I did this morning again. I also think that in about 3 hours he’ll have done something else so ridiculous we’ll be back to square one. That’s the cycle though, right?
0 comments:
Post a Comment