Doggy Parenting Epic Failure
Are you a human for a fur pet? I have an adorable six-month-old rat terrier. When we got him, he was only seven weeks old. He was so tiny that I was in shock when we went around the corner and saw him for the first time. How in the world were we going to keep him alive with three overactive children? It wasn’t easy.
Late Night Vet Visits
During the first week, we thought he was going to have to be put down twice for a broken leg. The second time we even drove an hour and a half to a 24-hour veterinarian clinic to have him checked out. Only to have him bound across the parking log as soon as we arrived, so back home we went. I wasn’t about to pay for a visit for no reason.
Obsession with Bathroom Trash
The little sh*t also has an obsession for trash. Bathroom trash. My puppy is disgusting. I’m not going to tell you what type of feminine hygiene product he puked up on our bed. Use your imagination. Needless to say, he is not allowed in the bathroom unsupervised.
What’s your favorite pet story? Until a couple of days ago, this last one was my favorite, but I have a better one now. Here goes. Here in Missouri, we are in the middle of the most annoying winter where our kids have been stuck at home for weeks, except for a few occasional days of school. As a result, my daughter took a late nap and was awake with me at midnight. I realize she’s five and that is ridiculous. That’s another epic failure on my part, but not part of this story.
So, it was cold, icy, and midnight. I decided to let the adorable ten-pound puppy outside to go to the bathroom before bed. However, in my infinite wisdom, I thought he would rush back inside after going pee, so I didn’t put him on his chain. I know. My husband had told me repeatedly not to do that, so I don’t need your advice.
You can probably guess what happened. He didn’t come back. The asshat ran around in the yard with me calling to him at MIDNIGHT. As a result, my daughter went to the door and started yelling at him as well. He did not listen. Next, my daughter and I put on our shoes. I was in my husband’s flip flops, and my daughter was in her brother’s cowboy boots. And, we trudged outside.
Unfortunately, at midnight with a blanket of ice and snow on the ground, it was deathly quiet, and with each step, there was the loud crunch of our shoes breaking the melted and re-frozen mixture that covered the grass.
What did the dog do? Ran from the snow monsters that were after him. The dog took off to the backyard, so we followed in pursuit. Then, my daughter had the great idea of opening the van door to try and trick him. Granted, this usually works, but he was scared spitless by this point and ignored the loud monsters in PJ’s who were chasing him through the yard. The van trick got us nowhere. Our next attempt was to get a bag of trash out of the van to make scratching sounds. Remember, the dog likes garbage? That didn’t work either.
By this point, I was pissed and had to go to work the next day. More like that same morning. Anyway, I headed back to the house telling my daughter I didn’t care what happened to her dog.
Once we were inside the house, my daughter went crying to daddy to tell him that I didn’t put the dog on his leash and left him outside to die. Instead of sticking around to hear the lecture, I headed to the backdoor to see if the damn dog had shown up there. Nope.
Meanwhile back on the ranch, or in this case, on the front porch, the little demon was standing in the grass eating something but still wouldn’t listen to me. However, I’m eviler than my dog is. I went and grabbed a dog treat and tossed him a tiny bite over the porch rail which he gobbled up. At this point, I knew I’d won, so I crouched down to let him get another whiff of the treat, and then moved to the rail by the stairs, and then the steps.
At this point, the cute little guy came running up the steps and into my arms. Do you think he got the rest of the treat? Hell, to the no. He got put in the bathroom with the door shut. And, I almost left the treat on the other side of the door, so that he could smell it all night long. However, I was more mature than that. No, really, I just didn’t want him to scratch the sh*t out of my door.
So, what’s your favorite pet parenting story?
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