I used to think when we left the house that the dogs settled in and napped the day away. Quiet, peaceful puppies. Gentle snoring. Dreams of dog bones raining from the sky. It's beginning to dawn on me this may not be the case.
Each day when we come home the dogs go bonkers. Barking, yelping, growling, whining, vocalizing, exclamations of canine energy. Yes, they are exited to see us, but it is more than that.
Layla and Addy's crates face each other. I think they talk smack to each other all day long. Layla probably starts with "hey bitch, you are just here temporary" to which Addy reply's "just you wait, I'm gonna take you down as soon as I get out." "Well" says Layla, "I'm skinny, so take that". "You saying I'm fat? I'm full figured, it's the lab in me" replies Addy. Several times a day I imagine Mick ambles through and smirks "Ha! Only the bad dogs have to be crated." He knows that the slow dog is the last one out the door. Addy will be on Layla's heels so he stays out of the melee. All day they long they poke at each other until we roll in weary from a day at work.
Watch out when you open those crates. Explosions of four footed energy burst out and it's game on. For the two girls that is. For Mick it's the sweet relief of watering the bushes and staying out of the way. Crazy canine shenanigans. All because someone said "I'll get you my pretty".
Life with dogs. A little humor, a dash of play, a seed of faith, and of course, some dog fur.
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