Departure Ritual

In some ways this post is a public service announcement to help those with dogs appreciate that, while their dog may be crazy, he/she is not this crazy.

Before leaving the house the following checklist must be completed:

-Remove all pillows from bedroom
-Remove all bits of miscellaneous clothing from room
-Ensure all items are put away fully in the bathroom
-Open only lower shutters on one wall of windows
-Turn on iPod with classical music loop
-Turn on tabletop fan for extra cooling and additional white noise
-Make sure the bed is fully made
-Lock clothing closet door in bedroom
-Pull bathroom door closed
-Leave out sacrificial rug for shredding
-Call and if necessary bribe dog into said room
-Provide treat and or pets for jumping up and settling on bed
-Back out of room slowly
-Lock all THREE locks on exterior of bedroom door
-Exit house quickly and with minimal noise

Yeah, and this is the better version that doesn't involve having to dope up our dog on (vet provided) tranquilizers that are so strong they would knock a human out for days. He actually doesn't howl or bark when we're gone now, a vast improvement.

So we've reached a workable (ha!) solution that the dog is settling into the new place, nine months on, that seems to do the trick. Of course we've had to literally put a lock on our closet door inside the room because he has eaten enough of my work clothes now that I'm starting to think he's commenting on my shopping choices.

We have also replaced the door handle to our room at least seven times. Why you ask? Because he literally crushes the inside knob of the door handle over a series of weeks with his teeth and jaw. Mind you, he's not a chewer of other things though. Oh and we have bite marks on no less than three shutters on the windows in the room, but at least they aren't blinds. We've left (jinx) those days behind us. And we have a pile of small IKEA rugs that we go through every few months as he randomly shreds one while we're gone, purposely left out for him to do so (vet recommended). Way cheaper than the 8 x 10 he worked his way through in the first two months we moved in.

And he's gone through no less than five, easily more dog beds/blankets that sit on his actually indestructible kuranda dog bed. And yet his trusty plush companion Jack, is still in tact through it all.

Of course if there's a thunderstorm a sudden drop in barometric pressure, all bets are off and we are likely to return home to a huge mess that takes on various levels of "I cannot believe I got home first and have to clean this up."

He's eight now. We've had him since he was about 1.5 or so. We're not sure who's crazier at this point. Us or him. We talked to the gypsies, they won't take him. So, we decided to keep him.

Pillow Carnage

After a dozen I stopped counting. The trouble is that the wrath against the pillows would come without warning. After months of what must have been an uneasy peace between the stuffed faction and the canine, it would start again. Sometimes a would be sacrifice was drug out to the living room, unharmed, but marked for death.

Other times it would be a polite pull off of the pillowcase, and corner bite to allow the stuffing to ooze out, but not render the pillow completely useless. Then the tactical strikes would begin. In a single sitting upwards of five pillows could be taken out. All rendered useless by a midsection tear or an across the top rip.

The sofa accent pillows never saw it coming. After years of not even acknowledging each other they were gone- left as carcasses to be cleaned up on the battlefield carpet. The replacements were gone within a month. Reclining watching TV now involves folding up blankets to create a headrest on the couch. Mainly out of fear that there must be a limit to how many pillows a person can really purchase on a rolling basis.

The morning routine involves stuffing the bed pillows in a closet and making sure it is firmly closed. The couch pillows used to get tossed up the loft stairs. All held hostage by the canine inhabitant.

But yesterday there was a sneak attack that went unnoticed. As I rounded the top of the stairs this morning with laundry in hand I glanced to my left and saw the tell tale signs of battle, fluff. Scattered across the papers waiting to be sorted by the lateral file, the final guest bedroom pillow had fallen. Quietly and without fanfare the ranks had been once again thinned.

Looks like it's time to go Target the replacements. It's getting hard and harder to find volunteers.