We dropped the dog off at the Vet's this morning. She will come back an "it". If "it" decides to run away again like she did yesterday she can stay away. The doggie Prozac was supposed to eliminate this behavior. It hasn't. If anything it has brought out a deviousness that she never had before. Yesterday she ran away. Right out of the door like a racehorse. As I am walking the neighborhood with my empty leash (looking deranged in anger, in my pj"s) she is sitting by the door patiently awaiting my return. She was saved a butt smaking by the neighbors out petting her. So lucky!
I am a cat person. Can you tell? I love dogs. They are pretty. They play. They are really cool to take places. That said, I never wanted to own one. They need more attention than babies. They need supervised bathroom visits. They eat EVERYTHING, even if it previously made them deathly ill. They want to be held, petted, stroked, fawned over. I have children that require less effort.
The Hubs almost lured me into a Great Dane yesterday. You might as well drive a bus through our living room, as I believe they are the same size. What the hell is wrong with me? Why would I even consider it? Because I love the Hubs and want him to be happy. Would I be with a horse in the house? No. Would I do it if I felt he really wanted the dog in the worst way? Yes. Pushover? Absolutely!
My cats, my "boys" are perfect. I know the Hubs likes dogs but I catch him making kissy sounds at the boys and his lap is first chosen from the cuddly one. I hear him talk to them as though they can respond and I hear him laughing as they tear through the house as though on fire. He isn't fooling anyone in our house, least of all me.