I plan to spend my day in a haze of grouchy exhaustion, doing laundry. That wasn’t my intended way of spending the day, but the Butcher and I seem to have had a misunderstand of just who is responsible for the black dog that belongs to his friends when he tells them “we” would be happy to dogsit. And so, when the dog spent three hours barking in the middle of the night, it was me who was home alone to try to deal with him.
I’m not ashamed to say that, after hours of tired trial and error, the solution was to drug him and turn on music so that he could not hear whatever it was that he was barking at outside.
Unfortunately, I had a difficult time sleeping soundly through the music. And then everyone needed to go outside at 6 this morning anyway, because that’s what time they go out.
So, dear readers, I decided they needed to go for a walk. Yes, both of them. At the same time. One of whom I have never walked before.
And I only almost cried once!
Sonnyboy was amazing. Like, disconcertingly amazing. Like all the lessons we’d been learning totally kicked in to overdrive. He came when he was called. He got his leash on. He didn’t tug. He walked nicely by my side. The whole left side of my body was having the best dog walk we’ve ever been on. Which was good because, sweet Jesus, the black dog was a tugging, twisting nightmare.
And then I don’t know what happened, but it kind of clicked in for him, too.
We didn’t go as far as we normally do, but everyone pooped and no one peed on each other.
The thing about the black dog, aside from being a fretful mess, is that he’s very, very bright. So, he understands how doors work. When he sincerely needs to go out and isn’t just being a giant nervous baby, he puts his paw on the door knob. Which, I admit, I find slightly terrifying. If he had thumbs, he would not need people.
We got back, we had breakfast. Everyone needed an intensive face scratching and now those fuckers are asleep. Where I’d like to be, but I am, instead, awake and getting on with my grouchy day.