Dog Woes

Some people wake up naturally. Other people set an alarm with a soothing melody to ease into the day or an obnoxious alarm tone that will jolt them out of bed. Me? I wake up to a warm, wet, slimy tongue. In my ear. Every. Single. Day. Well, that’s a lie. Sometimes one hundred pounds of fur and muscle will stand on my chest to announce one of the Ps (puke, pee or poop). Other times, I feel a cold, wet nose and furry little snout entirely too close to my own, smell the rotting dead animal that is her breath, and, if I wait too long to move, get smacked and clawed in the face.

Don’t be fooled by my apparently resentful description. I have two of the most loved and most spoiled fur children in the world. They make their momma so proud, even if they could use slightly better manners. Dog manners take work, and you know by now that I’m not a fan of work, so my fault they’re jerks. They “know” a ton of tricks and will work for treats, but sans snack, I have two wild beasts doing whatever they want.

Faith is an old-before-her time middle-aged golden retriever rescue with a snuggling habit and not a clue how to retrieve. She loves watching television, hoarding toys, and stealing food from the counter. She finds it unacceptable that anyone would not pay full attention to her at all times, so please keep that in mind if you ever come to visit.

Sammy is a German shepherd puppy with my aptitude for napping and my husband’s steadfast loyalty. He looks like a scary monster, but is just a big, cuddly goof. He’s afraid of shovels and vacuums, loves a good game of fetch, and is curious about everyone and everything.

Each day, these guys get an off leash hike around the farm followed by tick check and brushing. They’re much better groomed than the humans of the household are, for sure. These dogs have their own voices and personalities and I’m pretty sure that my husband and I communicate more often pretending to be the voices of our dogs than in normal husband-wife conversation.