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Monday, June 27, 2011

Tennis ball syndrome

I'm sitting outside by my pool, enjoying some deliciously delectable wine, trying to wind down from the weekend. My five dogs have other plans for me.

First, let me run through my zoo:
Lola. She's 10 this year. She's a Rottweiler mix with what I believe is a German Shepard. She's one of the most awesome dogs. She has this amazing trick that my teenage daughter taught her. Attention guys who want to visit... Wear a cup. Or don't wear one if you think you can take on Lola. I will tell you more about her awesome trick later.
Coco. Coco is a tiny toy Poodle. However, if she were actually as big as she thinks she is, she would be in doggy jail for the rest of her life. She hates anyone who dares to even breathe in the same country. You are taking away from her precious fresh air. Stop or she's coming to get you. I like to think of her as Hannibal Lector or maybe Doggibal Lector.
Jezebel. She is a Black Lab/Blue Heeler mix. Completely obsessive compulsive. She's super smart, always behaves, and minds her manners. Until you go out in the back yard... Then it's a free for all.
Chloe. The sweetest dog on the planet. She is a Pit Bull/Lab mix. Talk about a problem with fixation. That's for another post. I can tell you she is a total and complete cuddle bug. She must touch you when you sleep. Yes, I said must. You have no choice in the matter if you want any sleep at night, so just go with it.
Munchkin. Honestly, I have no clue what she is. All I know is that she is 6 months old and starting to be more and more like Coco daily. This can't be a good thing.
Pico. Pico de Guyo (yes, that's how his name is spelled) is a cat. When my daughter first brought him home, she was positive that he was a girl. No such luck. She called him sugarplum. When his little balls of wonder started showing, she freaked. Thought "she" had cancer. Again, no such luck. He's an outdoor cat. Loves, loves, loves, to ride in the car. Doesn't matter whose car it is.

So, back to my original thought. Damn, this wine tastes quite yummy. What was I saying? Oh, yes... My dogs' plans for me. As I try to enjoy my now second glass of wine, I feel like that kid is dodge ball who always got hit with the ball. Jezebel and Chloe are actually throwing tennis balls AT me. Yes, you did read that right. AT me. Not dropping the ball at my feet looking at me with the ever lasting look of "will you be so kind as to toss this ball out into the yard or pool so I may retrieve it for you, my lady?". Not a chance. Now it's gotten to the point of "if you don't throw this damn ball for me right fricken now, I'm going to dig up your hydrangeas, bitch!!".

People always talk about the unconditional love of a dog. I would like to meet this person so I can shove this tennis ball up his/her ass. My dogs love me as long as I feed them when they are ready to eat, let them swim in the pool on a daily basis, and throw tennis balls to them until my arms are as muscular as a pro baseball pitcher. Oh, and let's not forget... As long as they can ALL sleep on the bed with me.

I have to admit, I love my dogs. Even the cat. And I'm not a cat person unless we are talking about panthers. I don't really care to find a decapitated rat on my back doorstep as a gift. Give me flowers! Give me goodies! But I guess he's working with what he's got.

So now, my hydrangeas that I worked so hard to keep alive are now spread out on my pool deck as if another hurricane hit. And the tennis balls? Placed strategically on my lap just in case I ever decide to actually throw the ball into complete darkness for Jezebel or Chloe to gratefully bring back to me since, as always, we can go through the whole process again.

Yep, love those dogs.

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