I know I may come off as sounding as though I’m sometimes vying for a position as patron saint to misunderstood dogs, but even I have days where I just don’t give a crap. Today (Tuesday) was one of those days, and it started when I woke up. I woke up not so fresh from a dream where I was dating Britney Spears, which explains why I was so tired even though I’d slept for six hours. The entire dream was spent trying to calm her down, because she thought everyone hated her. It was sad, really. So I was tired, feeling down, and didn’t really have the energy to deal with the whole Put the leash on EZ, take the dogs out for their morning constitutional, and try to make them like each other and avoid a dog fight thing. Besides, maybe the Britney dream was about me being too much of a control freak about the dogs. Or, maybe it meant I was batshit crazy and had a hot ass. Whatever. I let Rex and EZ out of their crates and said, “Screw it. Come on. Let’s go outside.”
I’ll pause here and say that when it comes to responsible dog ownership and/or when dealing with dogs who have poor social skills I don’t advocate the kind of lazy disregard I displayed when I woke up, because it could be hazardous for your dogs and/or yourself.
While clawing at my left eye, because it stung for some reason, perhaps due to allergies or that crazy sun thing that insisted on shining even though I wasn’t ready to focus yet, I opened the door and said to the unleashed dogs, “Are you sitting? Oh, who the hell cares? Just go,” and watched them race down the drive to the main courtyard where I couldn’t see them anymore. I stumbled after them, noting that I couldn’t hear any snarling or ripping flesh, so that was probably a good thing, right? By then my left eye had stopped stinging and, as I rounded the corner to the courtyard, I saw EZ peeing on the south lawn and Rex wandering nearby, sniffing at the fence. For all my agonizing about how they might treat each other if I let them off leash at the same time, they appeared to not even care about where the other was and what he or she was doing.
After a while I said, “Come on, dogs. Let’s go have break–” and then nearly fell into a cactus when they thundered past me and raced back to the apartment, looking like two dogs who’ve always been friends. They were waiting for me at my apartment door, sitting together, looking angelic. Rex even sniffed EZ’s ear and nudged her a little bit, but she didn’t care. We went in, followed the entire eating routine (fix food, lay down, wait, wait, have at it, etc.) and, after answering emails, replying to LJ comments, and all the other stuff I do in the morning, I took them outside again when I repotted some plants and watered everything an hour before it rained today. I was toiling in the backyard near the hedge maze when I realized I had no idea what they dogs were doing and hadn’t seen them for quite some time. Bad foster parent! Bad! So I wandered over the grounds and finally found them laying on the south lawn, not a care in the world, and they glanced at me as if to say We’re good dogs. Why the hell would you think otherwise? I said, “Carry on,” in my best Tim Gunn voice and went back to what I was doing. A minute later I heard sharp barking, the sounds a miffed dog makes right before he tears the ear off of a ten thousand dollar Bionic EZ 2008 model foster dog. I looked to the end of the drive and saw Rex staring over his shoulder with the very miffed expression I anticipated at EZ, who was walking away from him with the La la la…did something happen? casual, meandering affected innocence favored by nine out of ten four year olds who just attempted to copy Picasso’s Three Musicians on the bathroom wall using their mother’s cosmetics.
I guess she tried to hump him again.
Later, while driving to Starbucks with Rex on my lap–just kidding.