A Week of Doggie Drama

Last week was a challenge. That’s the most ladylike way I can describe it. Awful. My dogs have adjusted to one another and as far as they went, there were no issues. I’d been pretty wrapped up in helping our youngest wade through geometry (which he is horribly struggling with). The dogs were fine.

Well, that all changed on Thursday. After lunch, I trimmed both their nails. Obviously, Butter’s are significantly easier than Buster’s. We do his first. After doing hers, we set her down and Buster went over to her. He began licking her ear. Halfheartedly, I told him to stop. He didn’t. In fact, within a few minutes, she was soaked in Buster spittle. Gross.
Continue reading

Advertisements

The Chiweenie Ate My Blistex and Other Strange Things From Yesterday

This month has been filled with depression for me. Excluding a few highlights, my son turning 16 for example, it’s been drab. However, yesterday was a real pip.

The day started out filled with physical, whole body pain. My ever faithful companions, Buster & Butter, were attached to my side all day. The funny things began almost immediately. I credit The Lord for knowing I needed a good, strong laugh yesterday. While I was attempting, futilely, to get housework done, I noticed the Chiweenie (Butter) was nowhere in sight. Butter is a hide-and-seek pro. My son & I called for her. Nothing. Finally, I resorted to asking, yes asking literally, Buster. If you ask him ‘Where’s the baby?’ or ‘Where’s the Chiweenie?’, he will find her, no matter what. So, I said, ‘Buster, where’s the baby?’

Immediately, he ran down the hall & stood at my son’s door. Hmm. Odd. No one was in there. I trust Buster so I went in. Turning on the light, I saw nothing. I said her name, she pops up from under the comforter, tail wagging, quite pleased. You’ve won hide-and-seek. Well played, Butter. Well played. The look on her face showed her glee.

I then went in search of my Blistex. Stupid winter chapped lips. I couldn’t find it. I knew where I’d left it. It has to be placed up high. Both dogs enjoy the scent of its orange/mango tube. Reluctantly, I sent a text to the hubs. Where’s my Blistex? A dramatic pause later led to a simple text: The Chiweenie ate the Blistex.

Apparently, when he woke up that morning, he took the dogs out and Butter came in first. While he was tending to Buster, she somehow, some way, launched herself onto the dresser and devoured said Blistex. When he came into the room, she had Blistex all over her face. None was ingested. It just ended up as a furry, Blistex face mask. Wow, just wow. We laughed until we cried. On the bright side, she smelled magnificent.

More doggie fun arrived along with USPS and an Amazon Prime box. This one is all Buster. Saturday night, my husband & I had chosen a few gifts for the pups for Christmas. We have a good grasp on what they prefer to play with. Mostly, they LOVE rubber chickens. We saw a multi-pack of chickens on Amazon and they arrived yesterday afternoon. My husband put the box with various other presents after having opened it. The dogs hadn’t seemed to pay much attention to the delivery.

After dinner, we were all sitting around and someone asked where Buster was. Right on cue, he marches out of the room with the bag of rubber chickens hanging from the corner of his mouth! A circus of running, Scooby Doo style, room after room chasing a dog carrying chickens ensued. Eventually, his plans were thwarted and the chickens were returned to their place. However, 15 minutes later he returned carrying the Prime box. Unfortunately, it didn’t make it. RIP Prime box. He ripped it to shreds as if some more chickens would appear.

We laughed all night. The look on his face was a mix of pride and a ornery grin. Maybe we should have written Do Not Open Until Christmas? Regardless, I know that these two are a gift from God. They make me laugh even when I don’t want to. They make me get out of my funk because they need me to. I love them so much!

Who Do You Yell For When You’re Scared?

When I’ve been in scary situations, usually the first thing I yell is ‘Jesus!’. Not in a cursing way, of course, but as in ‘Jesus, help me!’ Sometimes the danger has only been perceived, but, when I’ve slid on ice with the truck, fallen, or otherwise hurt myself, I yell for My Savior.

That’s why I was quite surprised at myself the other night. Actually, more mad than surprised. It was late. I was sitting on the couch reading with Buster next to me. He began fussing about, sniffing the air and such. I tried to calm him, but he was noticeably agitated.

Seconds late, some kind of bug that I’m calling a beetle hybrid, landed on me. Instantly, I screamed like a small child. But, who I yelled for was Buster. In fact, it was ‘Buster, help!’ Immediately, he leapt from the couch, grabbed the bug (without even nipping my shirt or me), threw it to the ground and ripped it in half.

I was startled. He was quite pleased with himself, even walking to the kitchen for a ‘Good boy treat.’ I gave him one of course. After all, he did save the day (I guess). But, after congratulating him on his victory featuring a fatality (the bug), I begin to think about the whole incident.

On one hand, I was thrilled that Buster had done what I’d always hoped he would. Pit bulls get a bad rep in general, though I’ve never met a ‘bad’ one yet. I had always assumed that if I needed Bus he’d be there. He was. I am grateful. But, it also made me look at myself in a different way.

Why didn’t I call out to Jesus? Was it because it was a very simple, earthly type problem? One I could easily rectify? Yes, it was a very silly problem. It was a less than 2 inch bug that simply startled me- without malice. But, why did I yell for Buster? I was kind of disappointed in myself.

I don’t want to put Jesus in a ‘box’. He shouldn’t only be called on for the big stuff. My initial reaction should have been ‘Jesus, help me!’ True, I believe Buster was a gift from God. He has been my friend, companion, laughter, and snuggle buddy. He has been an agent of joy and peace- both emotions are God-given. But, Buster isn’t the go-to answer. Jesus should be and should’ve been.

So, lesson learned. It made me very conscious of my priorities and taking simple problems to God. I hope, that should a similar situation arrive, my first instinct will be to call on the Lord first. Buster may be a major league protector of the house (& me), but he isn’t the one to take my problems to. Jesus is.