I'm house and petsitting this week while Freddy & Jed are on vacation. I love their dogs and their dogs love me. Sammy, Roscoe and Logan have been my step furrykids all their lives. Until this week, when two out of three are in grave danger of meeting their maker.
Simply put, Sammy & Roscoe have lost their minds. Logan is the only one not in trouble, causing trouble or being caught getting into trouble. Or possibly he's been troublesome but the other two attract more attention? Who knows.
It started with Roscoe. His bedtime issues that the boys had finally broken him of started back up with a mean red case of vengeance. Sunday night was a tiny bit of whining at bedtime. Monday night he decided to go from zero to 60 and indulge in an hour and a half of whining, barking and baying. I was two minutes away from dosing him with children's Benadryl when he gave up and went to sleep.
Tuesday, Sammy caught the insanity bug. As she is always the most well-behaved, I'm going to attribute her recent incidents to hormones. She has pretended to forget that she knows she isn't allowed on the couch. Especially when the couch is covered with my freshly laundered and folded clothing. Twice, not once, but twice I've caught her up there. The first time she looked at me as if I was the crazy one before hopping off and ambling away to the bedroom.
To make matters worse, I went out for a few hours on Tuesday evening and returned to find the dogs had pushed down the baby gate that keeps them confined to their room and emptied the full trashcan into the kitchen floor. I'm smart enough that there were only paper products and some vegetable peelings in the can since all "worse" trash taken outside immediately. They did rip open a baggie of flour that I'd used to dredge my oxtails in before browning them for osso buco. The floor of the kitchen looked like Tony Montana had sneezed. Logan was probably in on the kitchen caper, but I can't prove which (or if all) were involved. They got stern looks and a firm lecture. All appeared guilty.
Wednesday was Roscoe's turn again. He doesn't want to come inside. Normally not an issue, but the dogs don't stay out in the yard while I'm gone all day at work. I called, whistled, begged for him to come. Nada. I tried using treats to bribe him, which works fantastic with the other two pups. Nope. Finally I had to go out into the yard and circle around until I was behind him, grab his collar and escort him inside.
Thursday they were perfect angels, which is great because I ate leftover Chinese and ended up puking for hours. As I laid across the toilet seat, I realized that that all three dogs were laying in the hall watching me with concerned eyes. How sweet they all were!
Until this morning. I let the crew out when I got up. Since it was a beautiful morning, they stayed outside for about an hour or so. Ready for work and oh so tired from last night's involuntary purging (not to mention 4.5lbs lighter), I opened the door and called for the kiddos. Logan sauntered in, accepted a treat and went to his room like a good giant beast (he's the Great Dane). Roscoe stood six feet away from me at all times and ended up getting the collar-grab routine again. Sammy was...wait, where was Sammy?
No Sammy in the house. No Sammy in the backyard. Gate's closed, doors to garage are closed. WTF? Call for her, whistle, make those "mch, mch, mch" noises with my mouth. Nothin'. I spot a section of fence that has two boards broken off at the bottom. Surely that tiny spot isn't big enough for her to squeeze through? Going for a closer look, I see that the small escape hatch was widened by someone oh maybe could it be Samantha digging under the fence.
I call her name again, with a mix of desperation and irritation. Yup. I see a white and black snout pointing through from the elderly neighbor's yard. GREAT. Sammy comes squirming through and runs into the house, eager for her dog biscuit. Hah. Sammy gets sent to her room without a treat. I then drag a 4' section of extra fencing that Frederick had leaning against the fence over to block the hole. The neighbor had blocked her side with a metal trashcan. I guess Sam's done this before and I hadn't noticed.
I can only imagine what fun things they have in store for me tonight, tomorrow and Saturday. Sunday afternoon my duties are fulfilled and the Daddies & fam come home. I don't know why the furry kids are acting out so much. I'm the regular sitter. They're used to me and are normally much, much more well behaved. I've spent more time with them than any of the past petsitting weeks. Hmmm...maybe that's it. They want more alone time.
I want more than 24 hours to go by without me getting a homocidal urge to turn dogs into chow. I think Roscoe would make a great stew. Sammy is leaner, so I'd have to braise her. Logan would feed us for months.