* * * By the way, I worried, when we bought this house, that the nightly teeth-brushing and contact-popping would be a pain in the ass, that we’d get in each others’ way because the bathroom only has one sink, rather than the two sinks we had at the old house. However, I am pleased to report that we don’t get in each others’ way hardly at all, and I only have to sigh and give him the stinkeye once or twice each evening, and only because he needs to keep up his stinkeye tolerance just in case. I’m not discounting the possibility that ten years of sharing the same sink might get Mighty Fucking Old, but for now it seems to be working for us.
So as much as Benji is a good dog and behaved himself and didn’t pee in the house (my big concern, but he’s not prone to that, I guess), I came to the conclusion, for the umpteenth time, that I am SO not a dog person. He’s a sweet dog, but I just don’t like having a dog around.
It’s with no small sense of irony that I report that late last week, a beagle (or beagle mix) dog showed up on our front porch and has been hanging around ever since. She and Benji had a good time (and Benji didn’t let the fact that he’s been fixed slow him down at ALL. If y’know what I MEAN.) and I tried my best to talk my parents into bringing her home. My mother might have gone for it, but my father wasn’t up for it at all, and in the end they left without her.
The lady two doors down is interested in keeping her, but she has no way to contain her (interesting fact about beagles – they don’t like to be fenced in, and they have got some LUNGS on them). I don’t know if the dog was a dropoff, or if she ran off from her home – she’s wearing a blue collar, but no tags – and doesn’t know how to get back or what. Fred’s under instructions to call and place ads in the local papers; hopefully that’ll bring a tearful owner thrilled to be reunited with little Trixiebelle.
She’s a sweet dog and I don’t mind having her around, but it annoys me when we go for our nightly walk and Maxi and Newt don’t accompany us because the dog’s with us. I mean, they’ve kicked her butt, too, and she avoids them and all, but they don’t go out of their way to hang out with her in the vicinity, and I really like having them follow us around.
For the time being, I guess we’ll feed her (she’s been eating cat food on the front porch, but I dug out the bag of dog food left over from when we had Jake and filled a bowl for her), but that dog is NOT coming in my house, and once the gates are up in the back yard, I’m not allowing her in the back yard. And the first one of you idiots who’s all “Oh Robyn, just ADMIT IT! You have a dog!”, I’m going to hunt you down and kick you in the knee. I don’t have a dog, I don’t want a dog, I’m not a dog person, and I won’t feel bad about it.
However, if anyone out there’s interested in taking her, BY ALL MEANS let me know. She’s good with other dogs, she’s not aggressive, she’s pretty submissive in fact, and she’s a sweetie pie. I’d drive at least a couple of hours to bring her to a good home.
She likes to roam, though. She’d probably be happiest on a farm or in a pretty rural area. She has no street smarts – she’s not completely up on the idea of staying out of the road, though I think Benji taught her the basic idea of it – so a heavily trafficked area might not be the best idea for her. Beagles are supposed to be good hunters, aren’t they? Well, she might be a good hunter, but she doesn’t know squat about fetching a stick.
You know you want her.
There are all kinds of cat and dog pictures over at Flickr.
Also, you can check out a buttload of the spud’s graduation pictures, here.
Miz Poo: “I don’t see why that damn dog gets to go outside and we can’t. UNFAIR.”
Mister Boogers: *fume* “Ah hets dawgs.”