TheBanyanTree: More Puppy Tales

[Monique Young]

Yesterday I noticed Ash had something in his mouth. This is something that
occurs ten or twenty times a day, as Ash has quite the oral fixation. I dug
it out, and discovered a small green Monopoly house. This was quite
puzzling, as our Monopoly game hasn't been out in months (it's still sitting
securely on the shelf) and no Monopoly buildings have been seen for quite
some time. We assumed they were all in the box, where they belong.

                Yesterday Ash also discovered my new three drawer plastic
storage unit. He also discovered that by approaching it from the back, he
could push open the second drawer, thereby giving him access to the bottom
drawer, where he could then help himself to anything he desired. 

                And what Ash desires most is anything he can get in his
mouth.

                I'm not saying Ash has an oral fixation, but nothing is safe
where he's concerned. As people who are quite good at collecting clutter,
this poses a problem. This is why we watch Ash all the time and he's not
allowed to be alone, unless he's in his collapsible crate. 

                The other day I said, as I'm wont to do, "What's Ash eating
over there?" We peered around the chair to see Ash laying calmly on the
floor, munching happily on my kitchen shears. We do not keep the kitchen
shears on the floor. We should keep them in a drawer, but sometimes we leave
them out on the counter. This is one of the reasons we're teaching Ash to
stay out of the kitchen. The dog has long legs and is able to reach things
that no one suspects he'd ever try. I don't even trust the top of the
refrigerator these days.

                When my beloved looks at me these days he wants to fix me,
to align what is misaligned. My old glasses are askew on a permanent basis,
and thanks to Ash, it will be several weeks before I can get new ones. My
HMO can't even get me in until October 5th. My coworkers didn't believe the
old story about "my dog ate my glasses," so I took in the remains and showed
them. "Wow," they said, "He really did eat them!" As if I'm prone to making
these things up. I don't have to make things up.

                We watch the Dog Whisperer religiously these days. Andrew
has learned many new tricks and can now enjoy their walks. I, however, have
yet to master the walking technique, and when I walk the two dogs together
it's a frightening display of dogly enthusiasm and human incompetence, with
Ash insisting on having something in his mouth, whether it's a stick, his
leash, or Honey's leash. I must retrain myself, keep him on his short chain,
and be in control of the situation. Until then, we are quite useful for
giving passing motorists something to laugh at. We're thinking of taking our
comedy routine on the road.

                When I looked up the definition of energy in the dictionary
the other day there was a picture of Ash, with his trademark enthusiastic
grin. On Sundays, we go to the dog park, and we let them loose, and they run
until they're exhausted. It's the only thing that keeps us sane the rest of
the day. 

                But at night, when we tell Ash it's bedtime, he's a
different dog. He knows if he's good, he doesn't have to sleep in his
collapsible crate. (A feat of modern engineering! It can be folded into a
small rectangular lightweight shape, as thin as a magazine, but opened, it
keeps him securely in one place. The one place is not always the same place,
as he is quite capable of moving it, and has been known to get himself
trapped in odd corners and turns it upside down and on any of its sides, but
at all times he is INSIDE the thing and therefore not able to cause more
damage.) He doesn't mind the crate, and spends part of each day in it when
we're at work, but he prefers to sleep on the bed. He's not allowed to sleep
anywhere else. It's either on the bed, or in the crate. Off the bed, where
Honey sleeps, he could get into untold mischief in a variety of ways. On the
bed, he knows he has to be still and sleep, or it's into the crate for the
remainder of the night. He often sleeps right next to me, stretched out in
his doggy way, all arms and legs. When he gets hiccups in the middle of the
night, which he does now and then, he gets close to me so I can hold him and
massage his belly, and make it all better. The hiccups stop, and he falls
back asleep, and he doesn't move the rest of the night. When he's like this,
asleep and content, motionless in a way that he never is when awake, he's
not the demon dog that plagues us during the day. He's not quite an angel
either, but he's bearable. We're rather attached to him, oral fixation,
endless energy and boundless puppiness included.