Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Skylar's cure for boredom

That puppy of mine...I heard her restlessly trying to be patient and sleep on the floor while I took a quick catnap as Abby went down for her morning nap. Skylar had been somewhere else before trotting in for a rest. When I got up to make myself a tea, I saw the carnage of her activities:
She had nosed open the cupboard under the sink, tipped over the garbage and ate a whole carrot breakfast loaf I had dumped because it was raw inside. (Side note: It was the recipe's fault! It called for a too-small pan and didn't allow for even/proper baking).
I called her in to the scene of the crime so her dog brain would understand. I yelled and pointed at the mess and she squinted before quickly running away to the couch, although she really had to go for a dump, understandably. Then, the big guns came out. Rich stormed into the kitchen, and she cowered by the front door begging for release. He dragged her by her collar to the garbage and further punished her. I couldn't help but smirk and she dropped to the ground and took her lecture. Then we let her outside saying, "Bad girl, bad, BAD girl."
That said, she usually is a big goofy puppy to have around. She greets everyone at the door with a neurotic wailing and wiggling of her entire body. Whether I've been gone two minutes or two weeks, the greeting's intensity is the same: high. She must have something in her mouth to calm her jumping up and slobbering urges. Usually this is her pet cow or bunny.
She lives for her walks, whether it's plus 30 or minus 40. She bounds down the street almost running sideways because she just can't run and express her joy adequately enough. She keeps a stick in her mouth at all times, because that is her mission and she could not live with herself if she were to fail.
She can also turn her goofy glee off in a second if I am crying and she nestles right up beside me, lays her head on my lap and lets me use her soft, cinnamon-coloured body for comfort.
Skylar was a Christmas present to Rich two years ago right after we got married. She was the runt of a large litter and we chose her because she seemed so innocently stupid and happy. She has since proven to be smarter than we think she is (but only when she wants to be, like this morning), and immeasurably more cuddly and loving. She is a bona fide family member and I don't know what we'd do without her.
So Skylar, even though you were a very bad dog this morning, we love you. Abby loves your kisses and rewards you with throwing cheerios and toast bits off her high chair to your waiting mouth below. Rich loves when you jump into bed and cuddle with him after I've gotten up to play with Abby in the morning. And I love when you "help" me cook and bake in the kitchen by taste-testing everything I drop and acting as though it was gourmet fare fit for a god.

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