Life with Dog

Yes, I know I talk about my dog a lot, but...well...that's just me. And, let's remember I don't go to a day job and have ample time away from the child...she's nipping at my heels all day (when I'm home...which is more often than I'd like bc of snowapalooza twenty-ten), k? So, that's why. She's totally my bestie.

8:20 am (i know, this is not so early) wake up with a nice eyelid licking. (her way of saying "open these things and let's jump around and be crazy")

8:30 am (art gets out of shower...where he has taken to locking the door bc he doesn't like a ledge-loafer gazing upon him and possibly jumping in to join)

elsie runs to see who has so much as made a movement. excitement.

8:45 am Art leaves me...alone...with the beast.

9:00 - 11:30 Elsie gets a bit annoyed, as she is subject to boredom while I check my e-mails, blogs, and drink some coffee. I also take this time to clean the house.

How is it with only two people and a pipsqueak...there's always enough housework to do every morning?? I think I do a load of laundry a day...how is that possy? I clean up shredded paper bits from the beast, do dishes that have been 'soaking'...sweep my never-stay-clean wood floors...etc.

Boris Yeltsin will usually try to 'help' me clean....esp. with the broom. She is excited, yet frightened by it. Barks and jumps ensue. If I leave my neat, mile high dirt pile for a second to go grab the dustpan, a dust flinging party is had during my brief absence. This is always refreshing.

Why is Boris Yeltsin involved here you ask? Not that I need to really explain as you can probably see the natural progression, but here 'tis:

Elsie → Eltsen → Boris Yeltsin

(If she's good, we call her Elsen Mandela)

During my morning cleaning/reading, I am rudely interrupted for tinkle trips. This is done by scratching heavily on the legs.

I must suit up in my arctic attire (no less than a hat, two jackets, two pants and boots...sometimes I am lazy and brave it with the flip flops...this looks good). I actually HATE this part of having my sweet pup. She is bouncing around whining the second I go to the coat rack. She can hardly stand it. "We are going outside...oh my ga..jump...twirl... I can NOT be out there soon enough... I'll add some whimpers and run to the door and scratch it so she is certain I am up for this.") Finally, I'm suited and off we go.

She bolts out the door to the front door of our 'lobby' and always...I mean always....does a shark circle clockwise (sometimes two) before I get to the door to unleash her into the snowy hell. She bolts to her gate, opens it with her furriest little paw (I must admit I still find this damn cute) and makes a yellow snowcone immediately. Sometimes three lemon snowcones are made. Why do it once when you can spread the fun out? I have brought my baggies in case I'm lucky enough for a #2 (which steams like a smoke signal in the cold).

Around noon, Art comes home for lunch and she can sense this about 2 miles away. She runs to the door and waits with her tail wagging so hard she might launch herself into the stratosphere. Art does not mind this greeting. In fact, I think he expects me to be there too, shakin' my booty when he walks in.

So, we all eat. And the rest of this is gonna have to be in pictures cause it's gettin' old quick. You think we eat in peace? We can't even so much as kiss and hug without objections from the peanut gallery. (Unless she is in the middle.)

See me sitting here real good and sweet?

Well, that's over cause I must smell what you got.

I would also really like to go out there again. I can almost jump out...you better be sure I won't hesitate to do so once I can.

OK, so lunch is over and it's usually Boris' naptime. She has no problem making herself comfortable. Apparently she must have a pillow. (yes, she is spoiled to the max.)

But, not before she makes some more progress in operation harness destruction:

Not long after, she'll be back up and raring to go:

She does have discipline although it may not seem like it. When she is bad, we tell her she will live here:

She laughs.

When she barks and won't stop (which is fortunately not that often, she gets this:

I know this is shocking to some and you may find it cruel, but it is the norm here...and it's effective. Now all

we have to do is show her the muzzle and she quiets down (after running away.)

And she loves the snow...LOVES it. When it gets really deep and powdery like it did last night, this

happens:

Those are melded into her fur. Poor thing looks like she has a white growth disease. She eats them off

before we can dump her in the shower.

And lastly, she wants to leave you with a little Valentine's love...

just roll your old mouse on over her....

(I just got a notice for another German class, so this should be my last life chronicle

{and valentine's card} of the dog.)