When Hubby and I got married we had one pet. We had a cat. Correction… I had a cat. He tolerated the cat, and sometimes not very well I might add. Hubby was not a cat person when we first met. I (and out numerous kitties over the years) have since converted him, but at first he was strictly a dog kinda guy. Alas, we did not have a dog. So, our first Christmas together I decided that the best present in the world for him would be a dog.
Mind you, we had been married less than a month and we lived in an apartment… on the second floor. This meant that once we had a dog, someone would have to take the dog out for walks, etc. This did not deter me in my quest to find what I thought would be the perfect dog for my perfect husband. I visited the local SPCA and found the most perfect little black ball of fuzz you have ever seen. She was a purebred mutt! I know that seems like an oxymoron but it’s not really. See, she was as perfectly mutty as she could be so I would consider that a purebred. She was a purebred Heinz 57. She was a little of this and a little of that, ears from one breed, coat from another, what those breeds were, I’m not exactly sure but I am sure that there were a lot of them. She was a smaller breed like a terrier but she had longish shaggy hair but not wiry, very soft, and she had pointy ears. She was pretty much solid black and had a longish snout sort of like a German Shepherd but only about half that size. She had the sweetest disposition ever.
I do remember that as I was leaving the pound I might have put the first dent in our fairly new van (I think that was the same visit but might have been when we got another cat). In my defense we had traded in my Mazda RX7 for a full size custom Dodge Ram Van. But I digress. I took my little bundle home and bathed her and tied a big red ribbon around her neck to surprise my new husband with his first puppy! When hubby came home from work that night and I put that squiggly little puppy in his arms and it reached up and licked his face with that little puppy breath he was like a kid in a candy store. His lips said “We can’t have a dog.” But his eyes said “Can we keep him? PLEASE? PLEASE??PLEASE???”
We named her BoBo. Hubby loved that little dog like there was no tomorrow. He taught that little dog some really neat tricks. Like how to imitate an elephant. What’s that, you say? Well, he invented a little game with her in which he’d stick a piece of bologna or part of a hotdog into the toe end of a sock and then affix it with the other end over her nose and a rubber band to hold it in place so that she could really smell the piece of meat inside the sock, but, she couldn’t reach it because it was in the end of the sock and she had a rubber band holding her mouth shut. I know…. Cruelty to animals. Call the SPCA. He didn’t leave it on there for like days or anything… just a few minutes at a time. Long enough for her to run around flailing that sock all over the place (and looking very much like an elephant with its trunk trying to spray itself with water) and maybe running into the occasional coffee table or sofa that may have jumped in her way. Honestly? It was quite amusing but I always made him stop…eventually.
Until he’d find the next trick to amuse himself… like actually rubber banding the piece of bologna or hot dog to the top of her nose and watching her try to wedge her little tongue out of her mouth to lick the piece of bologna but not actually be able to eat it. Until she about licked her nose off and then he’d reward her by giving in and letting her actually eat the offending piece of meat. Maybe that’s why his parent’s never let him have a pet while he was growing up?
But the funniest BoBo story to me was by far her “accidents”. Hubby was determined to housebreak her. And she was determined not to be housebroken. Poor little thing. She couldn’t help herself. It wasn’t like she’d do it on purpose (I don’t think). I think she was just having lady problems. You know? Like how after you’ve had a kid or two and then every time you sneeze or cough hard or laugh really hard? That little leakage problem? Yeah, I think she had an incontinence problem. And she’d get so excited every night when he got home that she just could.not.help.herself and she’d tinkle….and tinkle….and tinkle…on the floor….or his shoes… or whatever got in her way.
One night he came home and she started dancing around his feet, gleefully leaking the whole time and he was tired and exasperated and he grabbed her by the scruff of the neck (he was just going to take her outside to pee) and I guess it scared her a little too much? And she was also on that day having some other issues? Of the runny brown variety… Let me tell you, as soon as he picked her up, she let loose a stream of brown smelly liquid like you wouldn’t believe. He screamed “That’s IT!” and grabbed the newspaper with his free hand and went into the guest bathroom with the dog in one hand, the newspaper in the other and with his foot he slammed the door! HARD!!
I am standing outside the bathroom door scared to death that he is gonna kill this poor little dog because he’s tired and it’s late and this dog has not only peed all over him, but she has also pooped all over him, the wall and the carpet. So, anyway, I am standing outside the bathroom door, too scared to knock, and all I am hearing is the sound of the rolled up newspaper hitting this poor little doggy over and over and over and the dog is whimpering and making those little pitiful puppy noises and he’s screaming at her that she’s a bad dog! So the sequence goes – WHAM **sound of newspaper hitting the dog** BAD DOG! **dog whimpering** – WHAM **sound of newspaper hitting the dog** BAD DOG! **dog whimpering** – WHAM **sound of newspaper hitting the dog** BAD DOG! **dog whimpering** Over and over and over.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore and I’m scared to death that he is seriously gonna kill the puppy and as much as I don’t like cleaning up doggie poo or pee off the carpet, I also don’t want him to kill her. So, I muster all the courage I have (trust me…hubby is a BIG guy and at that time I had seen him lose his temper once and it was a scary thing) and I fling the door open. The sight that befell my eyes shocked even me. I didn’t know whether to SCREAM (with laughter) or RUN (into the living room and collapse in a fit of giggles) or just fall out in the floor right then and there. The reason is because when I opened the bathroom door I find hubby sitting cross legged in the middle of the bathroom floor in his underwear (he had stripped off the poop laden pants and thrown them into the tub for the time being), hitting the newspaper against his own leg, and the puppy cowering behind the toilet on the other side of the bathroom whimpering. I asked “What in the world are you doing???” And he said “I’m teaching her a lesson!” And pray tell, “how is smacking yourself on the leg with the newspaper teaching her a lesson?” His reply? “Because the noise scares her! I don’t even have to touch her.”
Personally? I think the dog was purposely pooping and peeing on the carpet just so she could see her idiot owner smack himself in the leg with the newspaper! I guess that is a best friend’s job, right? To let you know when you’re being an idiot? Cause dogs are a man’s best friend! I guess she was just really good at her job.