Thursday, September 13, 2007

The Good Son

The Proud Mama. It's a syndrome. After ChellBell was born and we finally recovered from the 12-week fit of colic screaming, I found this new sense of pride that must have been delivered with the afterbirth. It was really new to me -- not pride, but pride to this level. Almost a competitive level (come on Moms, we all think our child is the smartest and the cutest, although ChellBell really was!).

Strangely, I had the same sense of pride when we got the big dog. Fortunately, there were no colic issues, just some poop here and there. He's got the temperament of a first child who wants to do everything the right way just for his Mama's affection and a Beggin' Strip. I look at him and think, there's my boy -- who wouldn't want a dog like that. Proud Mama.

We're finished having babies (it all goes back to the colic, trust me), but with such a great dog, we thought, what the heck -- how much harder can a second dog be? (Some of you asked that question before you got baby #2, didn't you ?) So on Father's Day we rescued the little dog and brought him home. The sweet little white dog. It took him about 24 hours to warm up, and then this sweet 16 pounds of fluff became a nightmare of destruction, reeking havoc on our family. Whatever the little dog is not supposed to do, he does it -- he chews it, tears it, eats it, ruins it. He ate 4 pair of shoes in his first 4 days with us. He ate a pink marker and an orange marker. He ran away 3 times in one day. He ate a bag of chocolate (I know, I know, it can kill dogs) and then left diarrhea and vomit all over the floor (and he didn't die). Where is the Dog Whisperer when you need him?! So last night was par for the course. I was watching the Tivo'd episode of Biggest Loser and eating some Doritos when the big dog comes and gives me the Look. The Look that means "the little dog has done it again, and I had nothing to do with it."

I look up just in time to see the now PINK dog coming to join in the fun. I rush downstairs and find an entire makeup bag strewn across the dining room floor, with every red lipstick and pink blush suspiciously missing. Not missing, just relocated. To the little dog's face and paws.

At some point you have to laugh. But just for spite, I gave the big dog a Beggin' Strip right in front of his cross-dressing little friend and said, "that will teach you!"

No comments:

Post a Comment