Thursday, February 19, 2009

Life with 2 Dogs

We brought home two puppies last summer after losing our sweet but - oh - so - bad dog Riley (he was really a good dog - in a hyperactive-crazed-never-grew-up-gigantic-puppy sort of way). Which brings me to these two.

Life with puppies is fun. And having two? Well, it's like having twins, right? Have a GINORMOUS preggo belly? Tell people you're having twins and STAND BACK! No, seriously, stand back. Cuz people will pet you. Your belly, anyway. And I'm not a puppy, people!!! Put two carseats with newborns in your WalMart shopping cart and run. I said RUN. Because people will chase you down to touch your babies. Fortunately for heart moms nowadays they have stickers you can put on your carseat that read: DON'T TOUCH MY BABY WITH YOUR GERMY FINGERS! (OK, it says something much sweeter - but that's what I always wanted to say...) But my point is attention! You get all kinds of attention! The kids walk the puppies and everyone's their best friend! The husband walks the puppies and girls of all ages swoon (I'm not bitter...).

Then those puppies turn into ... well, puppies in grown up bodies! Because everyone pretty much knows that golden retrievers have stunted maturation, right? Which basically means they stay puppies for a looooooooooooooong time.

Take, for instance, the afternoon I brought the puppies (well, they're as big as dogs now) home from their pleasant stay at the neutering joint (lovingly called the vet - he's currently in the Poconos after we funded the trip, but again, I digress).

Kind Mr. Vet patiently explains to the mom with two dogs and four kids clamoring around his tiny portal of an office, "Try to keep them calm. Don't let them fight. They need to be good dogs for about two weeks (after their procedure....) {oh good...I thought he was talking about the kids}. Here are some tranquilizers." I gave that doctor a once over. Were those meant for the kids or for me? OH!!! The dogs! Then I rolled my eyes and walked out. With every good intention of being the good dog mom. Good intentions, I tell you.

Before taking our half-drugged puppies home, I had to run one errand. On a busy highway south of our home.

Rewind. Have I told you that we have one good dog-puppy. And one not-so-good dog-puppy? My husband and I laugh - because we've had one good dog and one really not-so-good dog before. And God reincarnated those two dogs (if I believed in such a thing) into the form of these two brothers living with us currently. It's uncanny.

Fast forward. Running an errand. With the four kids and the two drugged dogs who are supposed to remain calm for two weeks riding along in the van. I open the door to run into the store. Bad Dog escapes. But he doesn't just escape. He leaps four paws in the air out of the driver's side door onto the icy pavement below. He careens several feet into the face of a cement curb. He doesn't miss a beat. He bounds up and takes off running down the highway after a truck. A four lane highway. A very big truck. My half-drugged freshly neutered dog-puppy.

I stand there. Paralyzed. What? What? What the - ? How much money did I just pay to have a chip strategically placed into your backside and your private parts removed? What?!?!

LUKE! I screamed. LUKE!


I half run out into the street before realizing cars are zooming past me in both directions. My dog/puppy weaving in and out of traffic at cheetah-like speeds, fruitlessly pursuing an uninterested vehicular love prospect.

When suddenly, he turned. He skidded to a stop. He turned his body lithely in the opposite direction from which he had been going. And now That dog had the goofiest, happiest, (drugged??) expression on his face that I had ever seen on a dog in my life. And that dog ran like it was dinnertime all. the. way. back. to. me. And then he sat. At my feet. Tongue hanging out. Panting.

And when I opened the door to the van, he climbed inside.

The end.
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