March 29, 2024

They call it puppy love

I love my dogs. We currently have three canines living at our house, maybe I should say IN our house. Nearly 300 pounds worth. I have dubbed myself the Pied Pipper of dogs — when I leave a room, they’re right behind me. When I go upstairs, they’re right behind me. Even I am amazed at the spell I seem to cast over my “girls.” They absolutely adore me.

We never hit our animals, I mean NEVER. We also have never punished them by putting them in their kennels. In fact, when they were puppies, my girls used to walk right in to their kennels to take naps — the doors were always left open. Now that they’re grown, they use the couch, my bed, a comfy chair ... you get the idea. Oh yes, they’re very spoiled and yes, we vacuum a lot. And I mean A LOT.

A dog’s only goal in life is to love us and make us happy, so a stern voice is all it takes to let my girls know I’m not pleased with something they may have done. Believe me, they get that message loud and clear.

First, there’s Aspen — my 4-year-old Golden Retriever. She is the kindest animal I’ve ever encountered. Our cats even snuggle with her. She’s so smart and very laid-back. If we had a pet friendly office at work, I’d have her with me in a heartbeat. She loves to be by my side at all times.

Then there’s Cricket, our silly, little ghost-detecting Jack Rat. If you’ve never been around a Jack Russell or Rat Terrier let me just say they have a lot of energy. She loves to run and play frisbee. And if a rabbit or squirrel dare enter my yard, it certainly won’t leave in the same condition ... alive. She’s actually hubby’s dog but it’s obvious, I’m her favorite. It’s my lap she prefers, and I’m the one she snuggles next to in bed at night.

Hubbs felt a bit left out when it came to our fur-kids. They love him, but they love me more. Period. He figured a remedy to this situation would be to get another dog, one that would be all his.

So anyway...

I went home from work one evening last winter. There stood hubby in the doorway. I can only describe the look on his face as delight ... mixed with sheer terror — something was up. He led me into the family room and take a wild guess as to what was sitting next to his recliner? A bloodhound. Belle the bloodhound — a 4-year-old, slightly overweight dog, with enough excess skin to upholster my couch.

To put it kindly, I was not at all pleased with his acquisition. There had been no prior discussion of bringing another canine into the fold. He kept using the excuse she was being “re-homed” with us, which honestly tugged at my heart a bit, but still! There she was, this bag of drooling flesh in the form of a dog, sitting there, looking so sad, wrinkly and forlorn.

It didn’t take long for me to warm to her and forgive what’s-his-name. Belle the bloodhound is a very quiet, somewhat timid girl. If you aren’t familiar with the breed, let me forewarn you, they are a slobbery lot. We’re constantly wiping her jowls, their barks are comical, their ears are too long and always wet, their feet are huge and their eyes will melt your heart.

Oh, and guess what? I’m her favorite.

Contact Dana King at
dking@shawmedia.com