I agreed to baby-sit my daughter’s two dogs one of whom was new to me and was described as only eight months old but already "toilet trained" and still "puppy-like" and fun.

Picture of Minion:

http://www.AuthorsDen.com/adstorage/121255/Minion.jpg


Picture of Mugsy:

http://www.AuthorsDen.com/adstorage/121255/photo(4).JPG

Mugsy, whom I had dog-sat before was a doll of a dog, obedient little gentleman, didn’t chase the cats, once told that was inappropriate, didn’t bark, wasn’t hungry all the time didn’t beg for table scraps and didn’t bite the mail man.

A perfect dog and cute on top of it.

He loved our walks, marking every chance he got, didn’t pee or the other in the house and you’d open the door  in the morning and he’d head right for the lawn and do his business like clockwork.

And then there is Minion.
Minion now brings up the image of a Disciple of the Devil.

Apt.

He has tons of energy like a puppy and is totally disobedient.
Well, not totally.
He is obedient but only for three or four seconds and then he forgets what you just told him and cocks his head at you with big black liquid eyes and asks “What did I do? after having done again, the very thing you told him not to do—don’t jump on the neighbors, don’t sniff grandma’s lap, don’t pee on the carpet.
Too many times in the last week, I’d find my self saying “Don’t poo-poo in the house” while staring at him and the poo-poo slowing cooling in the background on the living room carpet.

 At first you say” Bad dog,” show him the offending pile and take him to the door, take him outside and show him the lawn where his brother is already doing his business; but he doesn’t seem to get it.

He prefers the wet pads my daughter sent along with him. The problem with the wet pads is that, when and if he uses the pads, he does number one and number two right there in the house.  But the pad is not the only place he will go. If the pad has been soiled (by him) he seems to blame me and poops on the carpet.

After all cleanliness is next to Godliness or something like that.

Smarter than dog  I take a pad and put it out side  and good news, he uses the outside pad, if he can get to it; bad news is that he cannot get to it at night or when the door is closed  because of the air conditioner.

We are at a stand-off on the pad.
 
This brings me to the I-Pad. My I-Pad, only months old, was plugged in on the patio and he runs through playing tag with Mugsy and trips the cord of the I-Pad and the I-Pad goes down onto the concrete patio and this cracks the glass face of the i-Pad.

Minion, now I am sure is truly the spawn of Satan.

The I pad still works but it heats up so I am not sure if it will continue to work or if it will blow up some day.

I call my daughter and cry softly saying “He is wrecking the house!” Did he do that with you?” She assures me that he will calm down after getting used to the new ‘territory.” I sob quietly that maybe she is right, knowing that she is wrong, and she knows I am right. I know this because I sense, she too, needed a break from “Home-Wrecker” as well. I decided what any parent would do, I pretended to believe her while not believing her because Devil-Dog was barking furiously even as we talked on the phone. Oh, did I forget to say that he barks  if I am not personally attached to his body? Well consider it said.

I decide that Devil Dog cannot be allowed to have the run of the house after I watched several episodes of The Dog Whisperer” on TV and I position myself in front of Mr. Hell on Wheels, who thinks I want to play, grateful for eye contact, thinking there might be coming play or food, his tongue hanging out in anticipated excitement.

I speak softly to him and show him the retractable lease which he thinks means a dog walk. But, no, I have another plan.
 I will tie him the chair I am sitting on, that way I can admonish him if he barks, and he does bark at every sound stray or dog and simultaneously I can also monitor his bowel movements and his number one’s.
 I am proud of myself and settle down to finish up some writing I have to do and but , minutes later, I look down and he is gone.

The Devil freed him I am sure and now I am on the hunt for the escapee.
I look at Mugsy and Mugsy shrugs as if to say “Don’t look at me” I never wanted a brother.”
I hear barking in the next room, dash there  and see Miss Daisy, one of our three cats dash by me her hair all puffed up and looking frightened.
This is unusual because Miss Daisy has been living with our two other dogs, Gizmo and Chache for over five years, but Devil Dog is another story. He is the largest of the dogs a blond, Terrier Poodle mix and he leaps over me, obviously overjoyed to be free and thrilled to be on a cat chase, one of his favorite pastimes.

I, the master, am ignored like I was a piece of furniture.

I look as him blankly and ask dumbfounded, "How did you get off the lease?"

He doesn’t answer me busy confronting Miss Daisy who glowers at him, glancing angrily me as if to say, “Where did you get this train wreck from?”

Minion is leaping up trying to get at Miss Daisy perched on the back of the couch and I lamely say to her and myself, “It’ll be ok, he’s just a puppy and needs training” counting on the tips from the Dog Whisper, sure than through thousands of years of evolution man can outwit dog.

Boy was I wrong. I looked up and cat and dog were gone. Miss Daisy had decided to make a run for it toward the back door.

Dunder head was in hot pursuit.

 To be continued