Last week, in addition to making me chase him around Oxford like an escaped asylum resident, Chorizo had a couple of other “moments”. There is pretty much nothing in the house he can’t reach now. Before he couldn’t get up on our bed but then he figured out (a long time ago) how to jump up on the chaise beside our bed and then hop over to the bed. Then he figured out how to jump into hubby’s computer desk chair and then from their onto the computer desk. I guess he needed to use the internet?
Last week I witnessed him jump from the floor onto my desk in our bedroom where I do my make up. He’s like six inches tall! How the heck does he jump straight up to the top of a desk? He’s figured out how to jump straight up onto #3’s bed. We pretty much have resorted to closing all the doors in the house during the day when we are home so he only has access to the living room, dining room and kitchen.
If he gets into the inner part of the bathroom he tears up the toilet paper so we shut that part of the bathroom off and he could still have access to the outer part of the bathroom but then he started jumping into the bathtub and trying to eat the soap. There’s a ledge above the bathtub where I keep the shower cleaner and bath oils and bubble bath and the BIG bottle of mouthwash and yesterday he jumped up there and knocked everything off and was chewing the bottle of mouthwash and chewed a hole in it! I had to make a contraption to hang from the side of the shower wall on the outside and hang baskets from it to put the bottles I don’t’ want him to reach now. Hopefully he won’t figure out a way to get to them.
When we leave to go anywhere we shut him in that part of the bathroom so we had to figure a way to try to make it in accessible. You know he tore my nightgowns to shreds so now I have to hang them inside the closet door so he can’t get to those. He’s also figured a way (I haven’t caught him yet so I don’t know how) to reach stuff up on the counter in the bathroom if it’s too close to the edge and those are unusually high counter tops. Nothing can hang over the edge or he WILL get it.
We had pretty much thought he was okay while we were asleep because he usually goes to sleep with us but this morning I woke up to my monkey sock slippers torn to shreds on the floor. Or should I say slipper (singular)….he was laying with the other one, untouched. I had put them on the chair before we went to bed but obviously it wasn’t out of his reach and he’s never bothered them before but he did last night. Hubby called them my “giggle shoes” because I told him I liked them because they made me giggle. Well, I wasn’t giggling this morning when I saw it shredded on the floor.
Last Spring when we participated in Relay For Life, my sister and I had aspirations of making and selling remembrance bracelets to raise money for our “team”. When we got there and got set up we realized it was just too hectic plus neither of our eyesight is good enough to do that close up work without our glasses plus we both tend to get spasms in our hands from doing that kind of work so we abandoned the idea and I brought my little letter “beads” back home. I had them in a box on the floor in the dining room.
The other morning I hear hubby sigh very heavily and knew he (Chorizo) was into something. I asked hubby was he was into and he said he didn’t know what it was. I was like “What do you mean, you don’t know? What is it?” He was like “I don’t know what it is.” I asked him to describe what it looked like and he said “Little round white things”, Ok…. That could be anything. I start going through the list of little round white things….. packing peanuts, tennis balls and he’s like “no, no, no, but whatever it is he’s sucking it up like a Hoover vacuum!”
I go in the dining room to find those little letter beads all over the floor. We get them swept up and hubby says “I guess we’ll have to start checking his poop to see if he passes them.” I’m like “yeah, maybe he’ll spell something. It’ll be like Scrabble. Only stinky Scrabble.” Hubby is like “Maybe he’ll spell dog and we can sell it for a lot of money because we’ll have a famous dog that can spell!” I said “Well, if he spells DOG I’m just gonna turn it upside down and tell everyone he spelled GOD and sell it for millions like that Mother Teresa toast or something!” Yeah, we really are weird people.
Then we have another conversation about how he has a complex about his size. Not in the sense that he feels inferior due to his small size but the fact that he doesn’t realize he’s small. He acts like he thinks he’s bigger than every other dog. So I guess he has sort of a God complex for dogs… thinking he’s a big shot.
We decided that he thinks he’s a Rottweiler instead of a Chiweenie and since he’s so spoiled rotten we have a new breed for him. Since he thinks he’s a Rottweiler we will now call him a Rottenweenie! Don’t you think that fits?