How's everybody doing today? Good. Good.
Perhaps you heard we're watching my parent's dog, Cady, while they're off globe trotting. Mom and Dad are somewhere in Australia. Unless you're reading this a few weeks from now, in which case they're in New Zealand. Or Tahiti- or was it Fiji? In any case, we have their dog for a month.
My husband is not what you'd call a "dog person". Is that how you describe someone who doesn't like any dog that barks, breathes or poops? And family lore is filled with stories of the destruction this young pup has caused. I'm truly not exaggerating when I say she has chewed thousands of dollars worth of things. Think about that people. Thousands of dollars.
This isn't our first tour of duty watching this dog either. We watched her last spring when I was still pregnant with Greeley. My Mom and Dad dropped her off with a check for a $100- to cover damage. And then my Mom said, "Just run a tab for whatever she destroys over the $100- because she will." Encouraging words, no? During the month she destroyed just a few items. However, we discovered that she really excelled at cat chasing. We didn't see much of Zoe that month. Unless you count looking a hundred feet up a white pine as seeing your cat.
Cady is also ridiculously strong and likes to lunge when on the leash. One lunge caused me to turn my ankle on the patio bricks, resulting in a visit to the ER and crutches. Ever try to use crutches when your seven months pregnant? I don't recommend it. In summary, we had some experiences with the dog which backed up the family lore.
It pains me to say this. I know Mom left her laptop behind, so she shouldn't be able to read it. (Unless there's free internet access somewhere in New Zealand.) [deep breath] Cady the Destroyer, also known as Cady the Terrible, is better behaved than my baby.
There is complete agreement amongst all six of Mom and Dad's children that Cady would be a pretty good dog with the introduction of a little consistent discipline. She's been sent to doggy time out a few times for chasing the cats, but is catching on pretty quickly. Zoe and Corwin are able to come into the house and eat food- a vast improvement over Cady's last visit. And when she puts her doggy snout near the cat box to smell those oh-so-alluring smells, all it takes is, "Cady, no." and she retreats to some other spot. Oh how I wish I could say the same for Greeley.
Greeley in the last forty-eight hours has: played in the cat box no less than eight times, dumped the dog water, dog food, cat water, cat food on the kitchen floor approximately four times each, climbed onto the dining room table and dumped a box of Count Chocula (a wasteful crime in its own category), picked up the new kitten by his head at least three times, unzipped my wallet and scattered $80 around the dining room. I'm too tired to go on, but I certainly could. We won't even get into Atlee cutting her bangs with safety scissors or pouring little piles of sugar all over the house.
Before anyone leaps to any conclusions, I'm not volunteering for permanent Cady duty. I believe in the previous comments we have a written commitment from my sister, Katrina, for the next round of dog duty. I just needed to confess that Cady the Terrible, Cady the Destroyer, she's got nothing on Greeley.