Hey, gang, how the hell are ya? Doing good here, just busy as all get out trying to work my way through Kickstarter and now BackerKit. But I’m getting there!
So, today I wanted to tell you about what I faced last week at home…a dog. To be specific, a little “wack-job” of a dog that can’t weigh even 20 pounds. He’s (I think) a chihuahua / Jack Russell cross and is crazy as a goat that’s been loosed in an LSD lab. Seriously! The dog is a freak. Nothing this animal does makes sense.
Okay, let me back up. Here’s a cartoon picture of the little guy from a couple Christmases ago. I know…he’s cute. Don’t let that fool you. He’s not all there, and he's a bad judge of character. He actually belongs to my son and DIL, and he’s a total mommy’s boy…and the biggest fraidy cat I’ve ever seen. His name is Zeus. I think they were hoping he would live up to that, but I honestly don’t see that ever happening.
Anyway, here is where being a poor judge of character comes in…Zeus is afraid of me. Terrified, actually. Or at least that is how it would appear to the casual observer. But the truth of the matter is…the dog just ain’t right. He’s so terrified of me that he won’t let me catch him to go outside, so we have to leave his leash on him the whole time he is here…because he’s not smart enough to know that just because he’s under the bed, the leash is still out there where that woman can get to it.
I have never abused the poor little thing, nor have I even threatened him and no one in the family can figure out why he has fixated on me. But Zeus has been part of the family for…hell, I think about eight years, and yet you would think every time he sees me that he is seeing some big, hairy monster for the very first time ever. They pull into the driveway, and he gets out of the car all excited to be here and I step out the front door and say, “Hi”, and he freaks the hell out. It’s the same routine every time and is so funny and weird that it has become the family joke that Zeus loves going to gramma’s house until he learns who lives there…because clearly, no one has ever told him before who lives at this house.
Recently, he’s surprised us all, as he’s begun to warm up to me—well, sort of. His mom and dad will bring him and his sister, Zoe, by and leave them with me to babysit for a few days. Zoe…no problem. She’s in my lap the minute they are gone and, while she will cry a little bit over them leaving, she does great with me.
Zeus, on the other hand, needs time to warm up to this stranger he’s clearly never seen before ever in his whole life. Who could be so heartless as to expect a sensitive young man like him to just jump into the lap of a perfect stranger?!
Well, the newest thing is that within an hour of his parents leaving, a switch flips in his brain. He spends the first hour he’s here cowering behind a chair, peeking out to see if I’ve left yet. Then he just can’t stand it anymore and when he sees me sit down in the recliner in my room and Zoe getting all the pets, here he comes, launching himself into my lap. Scared the bejeebies outta me the first time he did it. I saw him flying at me and worried that he'd finally snapped.
So, once in my lap, he’s as happy as can be…stays glued to my side the rest of the day. I sit, he’s in my lap. I sit at my desk to work, he’s right behind me in the recliner…we are best buds…in my room, for the remainder of that day.
Apparently, when he sleeps, his brain does a “clear storage” operation and he’s the living embodiment of 50 First Dates. I go to get them out of their kennel, and he is cowering in the back, avoids me like the plague all the way to the door, then hides behind a chair the minute I take his lead off and snap the short leash on him. Yes, he still has to drag the leash because friendship is a very fleeting thing with this wackadoodle.
This photo is the morning after he has just spent the entire day following me and laying in my lap. Now, all this said, keep in mind that I do spend most of my day in my bedroom, working—either in the bedroom recliner or at my desk. If I move into the living room mid-day, all bets are off…the dog that has just been in my lap all morning is now terrified of me again. I go to the bedroom, we are buddies. Move back to the living room later and I’m dead to him. His friendship seems to be very location-specific…again, only with me.
We have tried to sort it out and the only thing we can come up with is that he really only likes the woman in the bedroom. Apparently, the woman in the living room is a terrifying, mean person that is NOT to be trusted.
Have I mentioned yet that he is NOT right?
Well, that’s my story, weird and wacky, and I’m stickin’ to it. Hang on tight now ‘cuz we’re gonna go real, real fast!
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