Friday, June 3, 2011

The Way It Is: A "what were we thinking" moment

Daily Forum Column for 6-2

You know those times when you stop and ask yourself "what was I thinking?" Well, this one was one of those times.

As the very excited, four-legged fur ball stood shaking on my chest, the lack of light entering the seams of our curtains told me it was early. Too early.

It was obvious that the bedroom intruder needed to go outside and realizing it was just 3 a.m., I couldn't help but wonder "what was I thinking?"

My other half and I had agreed to puppy-sit for his parents 1-year-old Shih Tzu — for an entire week.

As if the early morning intrusion wasn't enough, the little Shih chewed up a few living room fixtures, also while we were sleeping.

What were we thinking?

The next night went much the same with a few added moments of frustration as the little guy couldn't find his way onto our bed after jumping off, several times.

I was awakened, a final time, by the sound of the little guy getting a stern talking to from the other half.

"Bunker! That's bad!" he hollered from the living room.

After deciding one of them probably needed rescued, I reached for my glasses and went to assess the situation.

There was Bunker, tail wagging with excitement, holding a plastic, fish aquarium plant within his crooked little teeth, oblivious to the fact that he was being scolded.

I'm still not entirely sure where he found the aquarium greenery but it was dry, so the fish appeared to have escaped any major turmoil, this time.

What were we thinking?

"He never does that at home," his doggie mommy pronounced from her sunny Florida vacation spot.

As luck would have it, I remembered her also making mention of his favorite bed at one time or another. It was more like a thick, wool dish towel after his daily use had worn the stuffing to nothing, but a dog bed nonetheless.

Her stories of the bed involved Bunker dragging the thing into their bedroom and onto their bed each night. I could only hope the beloved wool scrap would allow us to get some sleep.

We already knew we were crazy for taking on what equaled a third dog inside our house, going out of the way to get the dog his bed hardly seemed nuts.

So the third night, with Bunker's bed placed firmly atop our comforter, the little guy snuggled in at my feet. Our Shih Tzu princess, Stella, decided it was finally safe to emerge from her hiding place underneath the bed and reclaim her spot near my pillow. Things were looking up.

With minimal, midnight intrusions and nothing strung across the living room floor, the doggie bed proved its worth.

We made it though the next few nights only to find a few socks and flip flops strung thought the house and
"Bunker! That's bad!" was only uttered another time or two.

The little guy was given a brush though and sprayed with a bit of Stella's pooch perfume — to cover the smell of slobber that he was covered in from a week's worth of canine capers — before being sent home to mom.

What were we thinking?

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