Those of you who know me know I love my doggins. Chevy & Chase. And those of you who know me and visit my home know how the doggins beg for lovins. Chevy wants to get her snout right up in your face to smell everything that’s on it. Chase will nose her way under your arm just so that she’s “one of the girls.”
My doggins are pretty well behaved. But when we have company, I get embarrassed. I mean, I’ve taught Chase how rollover, dance, crawl… the dog can “little bark” on command for goodness sake. And Chevy – she may be deaf but she can read signs. All of this training goes out the window when we have company. All of it.
When we have parties, my wonderful father-in-law watches the dogs for us. He has two of his own so the four of them romp and play and have doggin parades while we have doggin-free parties. This Saturday I did not expect a lot of people – not like our 4th of July party – so we “tested” the dogs. They failed.
Chase, my wonder dog, has mad hops. She seriously leaps like a puma. I did not, however, expect her to invite herself into sheMohn’s lap. In a bistro chair. Bad dog. And if you look closely, you’ll see that’s she eyeing something – that’s food. She wanted to be on the same level as the food. Very bad dog.
Poor Chevy – she gets made fun of so often and never knows about. She’s the BDD and since she can’t hear, she does the funniest things. Like stare at shadows, run away from the TV, stick her wet nose in your face because she loves the smell of bourbon. Bad dog.
The biggest, baddest moment of the night: Chase ninja-ed a chicken wing bone from sheMohn. And ate it. She seems to be fine, no problems yesterday, but afterwards, she hid under Natalie. Because Natalie was going to protect her. And she had those “I swear I’ll never do it again” guilty-as-a-mofo eyes. Bad dog.
At any given moment, there were a dozen people walking around. And Chevy decided since it was her house and she was hot, she wanted to lay in the middle of the kitchen on the tile floor. This is not a small dog, friends. She tips the scale at 70 pounds. And she’s deaf. So you can’t sneak up on her without 70 pounds of spooked dog trying to scooby-doo out of the room.
Two birds, one stone. 1. Lay here and cool off and relax. 2. Look really cute and hope they drop some more of those tortilla bites. Because Jeremy’s already fed me some. Bad Jeremy.
I did not have photographic evidence of the doggins getting on the couch, pushing their way into laps, sticking their gnawed bones into hands, the dinosaur noses that came from Chevy… this is only a small portion of the bad dog instances. Thank goodness they did not jump on the table/counter or knock over the trash can. They might have become outside dogs right then and there.