Oh. My. God. I’m so tired. Exhausted. What’s my name? Seriously. It took me two tries to sign in here right. I have been babysitting the new little brother for four days now. He had me at nervous breakdown time on day 2.
Sam is a good dog. Sam is a sweet dog. Sam is a pain in my ass. He wants to learn and wants to be a good dog, but no one has ever taught him. He needs a loving family who can discipline him and take the time to teach him right from wrong. That family is NOT us.
We have an older dog, who was far from perfect in her younger days. But she’s mellowed and is a good, solid family dog. She’s also pushing 94 in real age and has a heart condition. Sam, who has at least 30 pounds on her (she’s a lab/greyhound mix) wants to play with her like a puppy. He T-bones her with his head and she goes flying eighteen feet, coughing and hacking and looking like she’s going to have a heart attack. She wants to play. She just can’t anymore.
So all day, I have to watch these two like hawks. If Sam gets too wild, I’m gonna be burying a dog. Oh, and Sam likes to poop a lot. In my house. And chew things. Things not his chewie toy. Sam is a pain in my ass. Have I mentioned that before?
Oh, and he likes to jump the fence. He ran off this weekend. And he didn’t just jump the fence. He let himself out the back door, THEN jumped the fence. I ran around the neighborhood, convinced I’d never find him and would be disowned by the folks. Of course, by that point, I was wondering if it might be worth it for a single whine-free, sleep-filled night. But I came home to find Dumb Dog sitting on the front porch looking like he thought he was the cutest thing ever.
Sam is a pain in my ass.
So this has taught me three things: A) Never, ever buy your parents a dog unless they can come get him TODAY; B) No good deed ever goes unpunished; and C) I am SO over dogs. We were considering getting another when Lucy leaves us. Nope. Not gonna happen. I don’t have the patience for this crap.
Sam is going to make a wonderful dog for my folks. For me? Not so much. So on Saturday, if I survive that long, we’re driving 6 hours out to Rapid City to meet my parents in the middle. I’m going to drop off a dog, get some McDonalds for the kids, and come home. 12 hours in the car when I am already sleep-deprived. Fun stuff. What a day. But at least when I get home, I can sleep without wondering what Sam is pooping, chewing or killing. Ah. Sweet relief.