The ongoing saga of me and the puppies in the house at night finally came to a head Monday. Last Saturday AND Sunday, the pups have kept me up for at least a whole hour or more after my usual bedtime. Playing grabass or something, I don’t know. Sounded like they had a mean game of poker going on…I half expected hung over pups and empty beer bottles the next morning, because that is how I felt! The whelping box is getting way too small for the three of them and, not to mention, that Greta is going to break her head when she jumps out of it. And somehow this is all going to be MY fault!
I’m not sure what I had to threaten, but I do know divorce was mentioned in there somewhere along with withholding certain things and Matt finally agreed to get them out into the kennel at night. I was like the freakin‘ kid in the candy shop on Monday at work! This was major, huge headway for me to getting back to my “normal” (I know, it’s subjective) life and way of doing things. I mean, who in the heck buys these humongo bags of wood shavings? You know, just the crazy lady with all the gerbils and the really looney lady with all the Saint Bernards. No, my girls don’t throw pixy dust, they throw wood shavings all over the house. I’m surprised my vacuum cleaner hasn’t broken yet. And it’s not that old. I was going to be able to slumber in peace for once in a very long, long, long time!
Well, lo and behold, it came down to me to feed all seven dogs Monday night. Matt was working, I mean, how hard could this really be? So out to the kennel I go with three bowls, two cups of puppy food in each. I gingerly open the gate and they, not so gingerly, barge the gate and get out. No big deal, they’re still at the age where they follow everyone around. So I go the back of the run to start putting the bowls down. Greta runs back in and I get her attention and direct her to the bowl that is on the ground. Well, I’m not sure the work “devour” is the strongest word here for what ensued next. Brogan and Brandy were soon behind and it was like “dog eat dog”. Now I know where the expression came from, I have witnessed it firsthand. So I put the other two bowls down and they were all on top of each other, growling and nipping. Food is covering the kennel at this point and stupid me picks up the bowls. I’m lucky I didn’t lose a hand or finger! I should have just thrown six cups of food down on the kennel floor! They are such slobs!
That night, I slept like a baby. And that morning, I was puked on by Matt with the “F” bomb on my cell phone at work. I’ll paraphrase: “I’m not ever feeding those * puppies in the * kennel by myself ever * again!” I said “Okay” and then he hung up. So now one dog comes in at night so he can feed the other two outside in the kennel. Last night was Brogan’s night and he whined for awhile, barked for awhile and slept for awhile. So the saga is not over yet. Stay tuned!
Delicious 
Digg This Post 
Ping This Post 
Reddit This Post 
Stumble This Post
