R. Kelly Syndrome

Someone told me that it's not the dog that's crazy, it's the owner. So, let me make it very clear that Ginger is not my dog. There. That's my full disclaimer.

We all know that she likes to chase things. There's nothing better than baby geese in the morning. But on yesterday's evening walk, she did something she's never done before. She tried to chase birds... that were flying. She just kept jumping and jumping. Throwing her body into the air. Limbs flailing. Looking re-damn-diculous.

Now, I hate birds as much as the next person. Wait. Allow me to clarify. I hate birds in the morning because they don't seem to understand that the sun comes up at different times throughout the year and just because it's up doesn't mean I need to be up so they should just shut the hell up. And I hate birds when they are flying because I had one crap on me when I was walking, once. Unpleasant to say the least.

In my humble (ha!) opinion, the only good birds are fried or filled with a savory stuffing. I fully advocate the dogs submitting to their natural instincts. I don't want them getting too comfy. They need to become stone-cold killers if someone tries to break in. However, I'm beginning to wonder if Ginger has a disease. Or maybe she's just playing mind games with me.

You know, like that guy from M*A*S*H. He pretended to be gay so they would discharge him. Maybe Ginger thinks that if she acts super duper crazy and makes me look like a fool then I'll give in to all her crazy whims like 24-hour toy play (all toys, all the time), or 3-day long walks, or ice cream stops every time she gets in the car. Do you think she's trying to wear me down emotionally? I feel like I'm in Animal Farm and that any moment she's going to start walking on her hind legs and using Wilbur as her bodyguard.

Oh Gawd. I think it's already too late.

Four-Legged Lawsuit

Yesterday, when taking the dogs on their afternoon walk, Ginger was feeling frisky. She had tried to chase a rabbit, a new family of geese, and a bathing bird. There was also the occasional leaF or piece of trash but for the most part it was the live prey that she watned.

So I shouldn't have been surprised when the following occurred.

We were crossing the bridge that divides the complex into good and Mexican when a cyclist rode past. She was going pretty slowly and didn't announce herself (I suppose she didn't want to startle the dogs). Neither of them seemed to notice she was even there... I thought. Because as soon as her ankle got within sniffing radius Ginger leapt forward and started barking and snapping. Scared the poor woman clear off her bike! And onto the ground! And I'm.laughing.too.hard.to.type.

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAAA!!!!!!!!!

Oh goodness.

So, after pulling the dogs back and reining Ginger in, I ask if the woman is ok and tell her I wish I could help her up but "...you know. My dog and all". Oh! Oh! That was the best walk ever.

Oooooo! Somebody's In Trouuuuuubblllllle!

Every morning I wake up to new and exciting smells. It's the smell of random feces. Feces in my hall way. Feces in my guest room. Feces in my living room. Feces that's half eaten. (*wretch*) It's quite menacing actually. But I've grown so tired of the sad dogs face and I can only ask "Who's poop is this?" so many times before they both begin to ignore me. It's to the point now that getting professional carpet help is the only way to go.

So, I've decided to go old school on their asses. The dogs now sleep in their crates at night. Just like they did when they were puppies. Because at 4 and 6 I fully expect them to keep their feces to themselves at night. Especially when we go on our customary "last call" every night at 10 o' clock.

They don't know it yet, but I bought ear plugs for this occasion. That's why I don't care that their feelings are hurt. It hurts my feelings every time I step in something damp in my hallway. It hurts my feelings each time I ruin a pair of socks. I become emotionally unstable at the thought of having guests because my house stinks to me so, I can only imagine what other people think.

This is also a test. If they continue to act out then there is no hope for them when I relocate. Especially if I have to spend 30 odd days couch surfing. To tear up my shit is wrong, to tear up someone else's is completely unacceptable.

So, we shall see.

'Til then...