November 12, 2011

Fat and Happy

As you know, if you read yesterday's post, my dogs are just about on my last nerve. They've always been bitches... you know, female dogs. But also, they're total whiny bitches. Pardon the language, they bring it out of me. They've always whined and followed me everywhere and thought anytime I walked toward my purse or my shoes or the door that meant we were going to the park and therefore it was time to go into hyper-intense-freakout mode. They've always been super needy but I truly love them and have generally just let their turdiness slide. But bringing a baby into the house in the last year has definitely decreased my tolerance for them. Granted, they've always been my babies and now that there's an actual baby in the house I'm sure they're feeling a little displaced, but obviously they are not aware that whining at me 24/7 is not the best way to win my affections. 

At their yearly checkup a few months ago, our vet told us they needed to lose weight and suggested we cut their food back. We did so and they have slimmed down since then. When we had to take them back to the vet recently (because they had the nerve to come down with doggie pink eye), the vet was totally impressed with their weight loss. He excitedly announced that, by getting them in shape, we had added years to their lives, obviously thinking we would be pleased with this news. They are looking mighty svelte if I do say so but the diet ushered in a whole new level of whininess. 

My word, seriously. They are never satisfied. If they're inside, they want outside. If they're out, they want in. Even if they've just been fed they're still whining. After I put Wilder to bed at night they know it's time for me to feed them dinner so they're always waiting right there at the door and as soon as they hear me turning the knob to come out of his room they start running circles, jumping around, and doing their best to wake up the baby I just got to sleep. I would wager they're even getting on your nerves just reading this. 

Tonight though we had a breakthrough. When I came out of Wilder's room they were not waiting for me. They were lying comatose in the living room. It seems they had finally heeded my constant pleas to chill out! Hmm, this was a nice change, but sooo not like them. What gives? I thought as I walked out the back door to feed them and they still didn't follow me. My triumph and subsequent confusion were short-lived, friends. When I reached their 30 pound bag of dog food I saw that it was open and no less than 5 pounds were missing. That's right, those two bitches went right ahead and helped themselves to two days worth of grub. 

I was mad at first... but they've been so sweet and calm all night. I'm now wondering if adding years to their lives is worth it if those years are filled with turmoil and strife and a potential aneurysm on my part. Wouldn't I rather have a few good years with them and have them full and happy and lazy and have my stress as it relates to them decrease significantly than have innumerable miserable years full of whininess with them? My answer is Yes! and, therefore, I now declare their diet O-V-E-R. Hopefully we'll all be happier and I will no longer be tempted to abandon them at the dog park.


  1. A shepherd and a weimaraner! Beauties. I'm very familiar with the high squeaky whine and the look of disappointment when they realize a backpack doesn't mean a hike.

    Although you blog about how they drive you crazy, your love for the furbabies is also shining through.

  2. Please see my comment #4 on your blog entitled, "Wilder Dreams of the Open Road."


I love to hear from you! Thanks for visiting!