Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

My Mo

When my husbands company transfered us from the beautiful Seattle area to the sage brush (eww, ick) Eastern Washington area many moons ago (2001) we tried to ease the transition.

By fulfilling (bribing) the oldest girls dream of having a dog.

So we moved to Moses Lake and bought house with a fenced yard, and a Golden Retriever...wait for it....dutifully named MOSES.

And I'll never forget when we went to the place where we bought him. Such a wonderful fuzzy litter.

And we adored the beautiful radiant red girl retriever.

When the rest of litter decided to nurse, this fat little dude wouldn't leave us.

He chose us.

And we took him home.

And he fit in my hand.

And he snored the whole way home.

And I had to bathe him that very night because he was so stinky.

And I vowed to never let a dog sleep in my bed.

And then he whimpered once, and slept on my chest for months.

And the first time my twin crawling boys (13 months) slapped a warm puppy puddle into their face, and squished a warm puppy turd between their fat fingers...barely intervening before it went to their mouth... I explored every resource of puppy house training.

And this puppy was house trained within five months, with major treats and "oh you are the best doggy in the whole world!" praise.

Because we were motivated. He was so eager to please.

And then this fuzzy puppy grew a little.

And then one night, years later, he woke me with a bark I hadn't ever heard.

It paralyzed me to the point that I wasn't able to get out of bed, but I shook the husband awake.

And he heard this new scary bark and catapulted out of bed.

And he looked out the front windows to find two police cars with their spot lights trained on our house.

To find that two juveniles had escaped from detention and had tried to break into our house.

But Mr. Protector Barky Bark, formerly known as Mr. Fuzzy Drool master had scared them away.

So much so that they broke down our fence trying to escape.

And when my husband worked nights for two years, Mr. Fuzzy Drool Meister, was my sole comfort.

And I felt more protected than any alarm system could offer.

And it started with a grey chin.

And then grey under the eyes.

And now my Mr. Hairy Ass has a full grey face.

And the walks are shorter.

And the naps are more frequent.

And now, he'll even let Thomas the most annoying kitten in the world nap with him.

And I love how when it snows, he turns into the kangaroo puppy, running biting the snow.

And I love how he LOVES ocean. Every year, he'll never learn not to BITE THE WAVES, BITE THE WAVES, even though it makes him puke every time.

And this year, I had to hide some ibuprofen in a hot dog, because the sand and the waves kicked his hairy ass.

And I love how he anticipates summer, because he knows we will take him to the lake.

He loves to dive for the leather handle on his leash.

My snorkel dog.

The law say he has to be on a leash, not that we have to hold it.

I love how every visitor at the lake pauses and grins, watching him jump off the diving board after every family member.

I love how the fish freak his fuzzy ass out.

And I love how when he gets bored with us, he drops his ball down the stairs and repeatedly chases after it.

And I love his magnetic personality, very few humans have yet to resist at least a few ear scratches.

And I love the words that he knows.

Besides the normal, sit, lay, stay, roll over, etc. I love saying "brush" "bath" "walk" "treat" , just to see the light in his eyes and then fulfilling it.

I love how every time we pile into the car he sits in drivers seat, until we tell him to get in the back.

And I love how he loves his seat belt.

And I love how when he realizes that he is going to the vets office, he puts his brakes on, but then dutifully steps on the scale.

He has an amazing sense of time, he knows when school gets out, and waits by the door, shaking with excitement.

And I love how the Mail Man and Baristas love him, and give him treats.

And I love how he loves.

And I love the way he loves us.

And I wish that there were more humans like him.

And I love the permanent impact he's made on every one he meets.

And I wish that he wasn't so grey, and that his joints didn't ache so much.

And I wish that dog years were more aligned with human years.

And my renting Utah sister who has another older amazing canine, has already planned to travel to Washington to her home owners sisters (me) when their fuzzy family member needs a permanent bed.

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