I really wish I knew where to purchase stock in NyQuil. At least I could recoup some of my cold remedy expense.
I’m feeling better, just not at full par yet. But I have to say one aspect of this cold has surprised me. The new puppy. Turns out he’s a natural for making you feel better. He’s a cuddler at heart. However, weighing forty pounds at sixteen weeks means when he flops across my chest, I have a combination heat blanket/’stabilization unit’. By S.Unit I mean once he gets comfortable he’s like trying to shift a forty pound sand bag. He’ll leap from the floor to the couch, but his exit strategy is like nothing I’ve seen before. He oozes off the couch and puddles up on the floor. Wiggles until his nose points down and just flows, landing with a splat. Ever watched the movement of liquid puppy? With him still being mostly loose skin it can get a little creepy.
He’s responding to commands already. He sits when told. Downs when told. Comes when called in the yard. On occasion. Some sticks are just more interesting owners. Last indoor training session hubby hid behind his paper. Like vibrating newsprint and snorting sounds don’t give away the fact he’s laughing. Asked him what was so funny and he mimicked me in this stilted falsetto “Good dog! That’s a good dog! That’s a good boy!” immediately followed by a growled “Dammit!” I ignored him and readied Cochise another treat. Told him to sit. He did. Told him “Good dog! That’s a good dog! Does the good dog want his treat? Dammit, stop tromping all over my feet!” Okay, so hubby had that one right.
Pup’s bad habits? If I touch anything, he collects it. Has to be stuck to my leg everywhere I go. If I stop, he leans on me or lies across my feet. And he keeps trying to play with the cats who want no part of him. Cats are cruel that way. But he still tries. Waiting for the deaf one to ride him like she did Lucy, the outside dog we let in during the freeze.
Middle of the night (things rarely happen during daylight around here) and Lucy started squalling. She’s part Coyote, so she does this warbling, high-pitched, extended, howling moan with staccato yips all along the way. An ambulance on acid. Full cross between a hysterical screech and bitching. But LOUD. Fingernails on a chalkboard times one hundred. Ran into hubby like four times trying to get down the hall to the commotion. Just kept pinging off the wall and into each other the whole way down.
Arrived to see Spider Monkey, the deaf one-quarter bob cat, literally riding Lucy’s head. She had her back ten claws sunk in low behind the base of each ear, her body wrapped around her head, and her front ten claws clamped underneath Lucy’s bottom jaw. No way was that poor dog escaping. But ol’ Monk was settled in and riding Lucy for all she was worth. Up and down, back and forth, leaping and twisting, Lucy was slinging her head, tripping over dog bowls, crashing into walls, and still couldn’t get loose. I couldn’t help it. Started yelling “Yee haw! Ride ‘er, Monk, ride ‘er! Call Sayde and Tuff Hedeman! Let ’em know Lane Frost is back! A little smaller and furrier than when he left, but his spirit is still large!” Hubby finally managed to peel them apart, but I got a glare for not helping. Hey, I had enough to do laughing and trying not to wet my pants!
The puppy obviously didn’t learn anything by observation. He keeps poking the deaf cat with his nose, so it’s only a matter of time before we have another cat/dog rodeo.
The puppy is in his crate for the night, but he keeps looking at me. Staring. Sending me subliminal messages. One is ‘You will release me and let me have free roam of the entire house.’ The other is ‘I have strange and wonderful psychic powers. I can detect the EVIL TWIN in each and every pair of shoes you own, and am willing to destroy them all to protect you!‘
Yep. NyQuil’s got me folks. I’m going to bed as soon as I find my other slipper. Just have to tell the puppy goodnight.
“Who’s the big puppy sleeping in his crate? Who’s the good dog? Who’s a good boy? Dammit, how’d you get my slipper in there!?!”