The dog ate her homework. For realz.

I've never been an animal person.  In fact, up until getting Bodhi, I generally regarded most non-human creatures with a fair amount of .... I don't want to say actual disdain because people who disdain animals are generally regarded as one step up from serial killers or Dick Cheney.  It's more like ambivalence bordering on annoyance. 

I'm not totally hard-hearted, and there were exceptions made for particularly charming dogs and non-slimy sea creatures.  But, in general?  Animals are smelly, noisy, and messy.  Three of my least favorite things.

But still, the kids wanted a dog and we wanted the kids to have a dog.  So I set about to embrace my inner James Herriot and aimed to view all the Greats and Smalls as Bright and Beautiful.  My mental gymnastics worked well enough that I started visiting puppy stores and getting all coochie-cooie with the wee wittle puppies. 

So that's where I was last June when we went to the puppy store.  It was summer in South Florida -- so hot, steamy, and generally miserable.  Too hot to even schlep our sweaty selves to the beach.  We needed to get out of the house and find an activity that involved copious amounts of air conditioning and as little movement as possible. 

Typing this now, I realize a movie would have made WAY more sense.  Oh well.

Yes.  We went to the puppy store for Something To Do.  You know how it ends.  We see the cute little asshole ball of chocolate fuzz, pay a foolish amount of money for him and all his shit accessories, and take him home to get tormented by him enjoy him for years to come. 

I honestly don't know what came over me.  I am very disinclined to make spontaneous purchases -- especially for large sums of money.  I just got sucked in by his soft fur and carmel eyes -- eyes, which, by the way -- remind me of this guy I had a pathetic crush on in college.  He was a soulful philosophy major  who played guitar in the quad and always looked like he was about to say something profound about something equally profound (which he never actually did -- but he looked like he could.  you know the type).  I signed up to take Philosophy of Nietzsche just for the chance to sit next to him.  Philosophy of Nietzsche was an upper level course and I had never set foot in a philosophy classroom.....but still, I was all like "oh, Nietzsche is soooo fascinating".  Meanwhile, I was silently wondering "who the fuck is Nietzsche and why isn't he taking prozac?"  I made it about 2 weeks before dropping the class and running back to the safety of the organic chemistry lab. I found other ways to stalk Mr. Carmel Eyes without risking my 3.8 GPA.

Where was I?

Right.  My dog is an asshole (or, as my friend M says, he needs to be gassed).

Now, before anyone gets gets their knickers knotted because they think I don't like my dog:  relax.  He is more than sufficiently supplied with belly rubs, table scraps, and trips to the dog park.  He is soft and sweet and playful and, when he's not chewing through furniture or peeing on expensive rugs, he's an absolute joy to be around.

But, still, he is a weapon of mass destruction.

See this:

 

That's part of my dining room chairs (the other 7 look exactly the same).

 

And while I was sitting here writing this very post, this happened (he ate THROUGH the couch cushion and pulled out the stuffing):

 

See?

Oh -- and I how I wish I'd gotten a picture of Rich's glasses!  Poor Rich.  He left his glasses on the nightstand, Bodhi got them.  Chase ensued.  Screaming followed.  Bodhi finally dropped glasses.  Rich reaches for Bodhi and then steps on his glasses.  The dog scratched the lens, Rich bent the frame.  You'd think single-trial learning would be sufficient for something like this, but later in THE SAME WEEK, Rich leaves his spare pair of glass on the exact same night stand.  Betcha' can't guess what happened?  Yup.  Except this time, Bodhi managed to completely destroy the frames.  The orginal pair come back out and get twisted back to marginally-wearable-until-the-new-pair-arrive. 

As God as my wittness, no one was more surprised than me to discover that Rich left them on the nightstand. 

Another chase.  Another totally destroyed pair of glasses. 

Biggest lesson learned:  don't make snide remarks about the usefulness of an Ivy League education while your husband is standing there holding his freshly mangled glasses. 

Almost as important:  put your glasses in the damn drawer.

Sometimes Bodhi's mischief is funny -- like the time he ate an entire (small) container of gold glitter.  He had the fanciest poop in the neighborhood that week.

Sometimes it's a little less funny -- like when he ate a diamond and topaz ring.  Or the fourteen thousandth pair of shoes (most of them Zoe's).  Or two Zertec, complete with the foil wrap.  Or my brand new shirt.  Or the kids homework.  Or Rich's Blackberry.

Poor Zoe was devestated last week after Bodhi munched on her math homework.  We packed the shreds in a ziplock bag and a terrified Zoe handed the bag to her teacher (who laughed, told Zoe not to worry, and sent her home with a poem about dogs and homework --- love her!).

I'm not really sure what my point is here -- other than to say that, despite the fact that I have a dog that eats anything that can't eat him first, and a house that smells like eau de dog piss, I am now a full-fledged dog person.

So much so, that I am actively trying to sell Rich on the idea of getting a second one. 

And I'm NOT the one with an Ivy League education.

Comments

[Luci]

Get a second dog, it totally helps!

[Kelly]

I feel your pain/love.. I have yet to bring a furry friend into our home. Don came with a barely potty trained, underwear and glasses eating cocker. After we had Anna, we went through a short lived hamster/guinea pig phase. Then the second dog, which was a "surprise" for Anna and me - the logic being Smudge the cocker was getting old and this would make his passing easier on Anna. (Smudge lived another 4 years, BTW) Then we got the cat, and 2 years ago came the St Bernard. I do love the pets (except the rodents. I loathed them and was secretly glad about their short life spans) but I am the primary feeder/walker/scooper etc. Yesterday, I was asked my daughter and husband how I would feel about getting another St Bernard b/c "there is a litter for sale in the paper and they are sooo cuutttee!!" When I asked if they were all nuts, Joseph expertly informed me about the people he saw on TV who had, like, 10 or 20 dogs, so 3 is NOT that many. Joseph was referring to the animal hoarders reality show, which I do not want to be featured on. Good Luck!

[Melissa]

I am laughing so hard that I am crying right now. We had a dog. HAD. I hated that pain in my ass animal so much, he ate through WALLS, carpets, doors...you know what i'm talking about---finally after one night of him waking us up eating an electrical cord and igniting a small sparking smolder...that shedding, shredding Mother F'er got his eviction notice. After all of that, a friend just asked us to consider taking their dog as they are getting divorced and I am freaking considering it.