The boyfriend's mom got Tootie and Cooper each a super-giant rawhide "bone." This was their reaction to us just bringing out one:
When the boyfriend takes both dogs for a walk there is no problem. When I take the dogs for a walk there is no problem, except for a bit of pulling on the leash which is rectified by me kicking her in the head. No, not really. (See, you don't know, do you?) But when we each take a dog and take a walk there are problems.
Tootie starts crabbing. And by crabbing I mean getting all down close to the ground and sort of crawling like a Viet Cong in the bush, her breath all heaving. She's like a mad beast. The walk ends up taking forever because the boyfriend won't tolerate any pulling, much less crabbing. So, it's "sit" every time she gets all crabby. Last night I think she had to sit about 45 to 47 times on our walk. It was ridiculous. It shouldn't even be called a walk, it was a start and stop.
Cooper on the other hand is the best walker in the world. If he even thinks about pulling you just tighten you grip and he falls back into line at my heels. He's dumb, but submissive. I like that. The only time he ever takes off in his own direction is for peeing on the mailboxes. But that is not to be helped. I give him those without any grief. It's his one big thrill.
Anyway, last night we were trotting along, waiting for the wild animal behind us when Cooper dove head first into a ditch full of crisp fall leaves. One second he was walking, the next second he flung himself up to his eyeballs in leaves. Then he did it some more. It was about the cutest thing I'd ever witnessed. He seemed to love it. I had to drag him out of the pile.
Wish I'd had my camera.
I was out walking the dogs again this morning (funny how that always happens) when Cooper decided it was time to dump. He did the circle around and sniff dance, which let me know that he was about to go, then backed his butt up to the only Corker for Senate sign on our street.
Before I could get the bag on my hand to pick up the poo, Cooper had begun the kicking of the back legs thing that some dogs do after they go. This sent grass and dirt and poo flying up onto the Corker sign, creating a sizeable stinky splat.
I cleaned it up, but while doing so I couldn't help but laugh, because I always knew who Coop was rooting for.
P.S. Cooper's black, so that's no real shocker.
So, I'm walking the dogs this morning, doo-doo bags securely in my pocket, when this old hag creeps from her house in her maroon robe, inching slowly toward the driveway. And she is staring at me. Not just regular ol' staring; no she stops to stare. I yell out a "Good Morning!," but I get nothing but an icy stare in return.
Once at the top of the hill the pups and I change direction and head back toward my house. Once I pass her again, I notice the old lady is now talking to herself while staring at me.
"Good MORNING!," I say again, more loudly this time.
"Don't let your dogs shit in my yard....(mumble)....mailbox."
Now, I've dealt with the psycho neighbors before, so I was prepared for this nutjob.
"What did you say? Excuse me?," I hollered back, insinuating that I couldn't hear her cowardly ass mumbling under her breath.
"Don't let your dogs shit in my yard," she said more clearly this time.
"I don't," I said to her, "I've got doggie poop pick-up bags right here. I clean up after my dogs."
"Well, there's a pile here and here, and some shit over here," she whined.
"You do know that there are dogs in this neighborhood who are not on leashes who roam around who could be responsible," I informed her. "Or those cats over there."
"I've called and called and they won't do nothin'," she complained some more.
"Well, I clean up after my dogs," I told her once again. "But, sorry about your luck!"
Then she said, turning from me, "I used to have dogs and they never shit in the yard."
By this time I'd had enough of her fucking whining. So I yelled back, "Yeah, they quit breeding those magic dogs who never shit about ten years ago. It's too bad."
Then we went home.
A very brave squirrel has decided to build a nest in a tree in our backyard. The dogs are not having it.
I had to drag Cooper in by his collar to get him out from under that tree. And the damn squirrel is just sitting up there, breaking off limbs and sticks, calm as you please, while the mutts bark and moan and whine.
That squirrel is a badass.
To see Cooper sleeping in the floor beside me, eyes half open, his paws crossed, dreaming of squirrels and belly rubs, is a joy. When he stretches he moos like a cow. The rough patches on his elbows from sleeping on rough wood and concrete night after night are almost healed. He is lovely, and I love him so much already.