This is what Michael sees when he comes home from work at the end of the day.
Doggy number one, snoozing peacefully on the couch.
Doggy number 2, resting quietly under a chair.
Even our recuperating house guest is catching some shut-eye.
Ah, it must have been a beautiful day in the neighborhood, he thinks as he surveys this scene of serenity.
Then he comes upon Sarah, Melissa and myself, barely able to string together a coherent sentence...
Then he comes upon Sarah, Melissa and myself, barely able to string together a coherent sentence...
laughing madly in the throes of insane hysteria...
obviously suffering from some sort of inexplicable derangement.
What's a poor husband/father to make of this?
What we are suffering is the after-effects of 8 or more hours with 3 dogs. Wally and Gil are mostly easy-going, contributing to the mayhem only when treats are offered, meals are served, or prized toys are stolen.
That's right. It's all little miss sugar plum here.
Every morning is like struggling with a 60 pound 2-year-old on speed, as Ivy races through the house, devastation in her wake.
Nothing is safe, not cats, nor magazines, nor books, nor rugs, nor shoes, nor cloth napkins left on chairs. Today she discovered how to open our automatic kitchen garbage can and found the cleaning supplies stored under the kitchen sink. She emptied the laundry basket one pair of socks at a time, beating me back to the basket to grab a new pair before I could put the newly soggy ones back in.
Believe me, it's not as if I'm leaving her alone and unsupervised.
Really.
She does these things in the blink of an eye, and with her increasing size it's becoming more and more difficult to keep hold of her leash indoors when she's determined to roam.
Yesterday, she spilled her water bowl.
On purpose.
And while I was wiping up the water, stole the kitchen towel right out of my hands.
She also discovered the source of yummy smells - the kitchen counter!
A new place to explore whenever she gets away from me for a second.
My newspaper?
Shredded.
Coffee cup?
Tipped.
Sigh.
Yet right now, as I write this, she's sound asleep at my feet, totally wiped out from her day of crazy mischief. I look at her and am filled with love.
How crazy is that?
Oh, and Michael?
He says he believes us...
but I think he's really just afraid.
4 comments:
Thank you! I laughed SO hard as I read that, I nearly sprayed a nice glass of wine onto my screen. Especially the bits about the soggy socks and the grabbing of the towel out of your hands. Oh my, I haven't laughed like that in a long time. I needed that!
Sounds like the basis for a hilarious movie! ...
That made me laugh, a great way to start the morning :-) Little miss sugar plum sounds like a toddler - adorable, but growing and quite the handful. And from your post, very loved.
Our sugarplum is named Annabelle. :)
And something happens at three years old - they finally settle. Just a bit.
It's more like having a mostly well-mannered horse in the house instead of a wild and crazy one!
Now when she, Daddy, and the babes are outside runnin' and playin', it's a whole different thing....
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