Missing Dog Ownership

Here’s a brief history of my dog ownership:

As a child we had numerous dogs.  Max was the most prominent, my mom’s favourite dog, and we used to do therapy work with him.  We rescued Lacey, Keesha, Gus, Mollyanna, to name a few.  Keesha and Kimmi didn’t work out for us; one was too aggressive, one had too high of a prey drive.  We adopted Teddy and Quigley, inherited/harboured (lol, inside joke) Barney.  We had a lot of dogs, plus relatives and friends owned various dogs.  The breeds we owned/interacted with included German Shepherds, Bernese Mountain Dogs, Border Collies, Kuvasz, labs, and so many “mutts.”

When I moved out for the first time I didn’t have any animals.  It was sad.  Eventually I adopted a lizard but he really wasn’t much of a pet.

The second time is when I began collecting kitties, courtesy of my husband (then boyfriend) who adopted Adina Kittykins from the humane society as a surprise to me.

The third time I moved out of my parents’ house was into the house I currently own and we adopted a lovely American Bulldog but it didn’t work out, sadly.  He was amazing with us, amazing with our son, gentle and loving and relatively calm when he was properly exercised.  But he had a tendency to want to murder everything else, from chickens to horses to infants to the cats, and so on.  He attacked treadmills, whistling Nerf guns, carbon monoxide detectors, handheld vacuum cleaners, and so forth.  A few adult humans he even nipped at (generally he was a great party dog who was not phased by lots of activity and loved to get lots of attention from multiple adults he trusted).  But he had absolutely no tolerance for children or other animals whatsoever, having the most “extreme” reaction our specializing-in-bully-breed-positive-reinforcement trainer had ever seen.  Thousands of dollars later we rehomed him to an older couple who didn’t have any young family members or other pets.  We still hear from him and he’s apparently doing great.

I, on the other hand, am dog-less and seriously missing dog ownership.

I’m too busy to own a dog anyways, I admit that.  Between my 21 chickens, 4 cats, 2 hamsters, and a 33-hour-per-week job I can’t take on a dog, especially not a velcro-dog, ’cause let’s face it, nearly every domesticated animal attaches him or herself a little obsessively to me.  I can’t go fucking anywhere in my house without up to 4 cats and 2 dogs following me.  My Sphynx has been on my lap cuddling the whole time I’ve been writing this entry and chubbykins Spyder Lynn is sleeping on a laptop bag or something or other.  I wake up in the morning with so many pets outside of my bedroom door.  (Oh, Suzy just joined the party so now there are 3 cats in my small office with me.)

Still, two dogs live at my house four days per week: Chelsea Ann and Mabelline.  It’s been a strange adjustment with my sudden job and chicken farming career (lol) and I’ve also sort of adopted my mom a little.  She is super cool and chill and helpful so I’m stoked she is living with me a few days per week and I’m trying to convince her and her husband to move in next door to me.  Not that the house is for sale, but whatev’, I’ve been dreaming big lately.

Chelsea isn’t convinced she wants to party with Husband Greg

I hope Dad never reads this blog because I have a confession to make.  I’ve been, well, a little bit ruining Chelsea Ann.  All in good fun, of course!  I think Chelsea is adorable when she nags so now she is a big time nagger with me and possibly might pass on that bad behaviour towards my dad…

OK let me clarify something here.  Chelsea Ann is a bit of a brat (and a huge pussy for the record).  When my dad is home she wakes him up numerous times per night to go outside, which consists of her standing on the patio for 1.4 seconds and coming in to get a treat as her reward for going outside.  Yep.  When my parents went away and I was living with them and Chelsea Ann (among other humans and pets) I didn’t give her a biscuit for going outside in the middle of the night and not even doing anything so she stopped bothering me the first night.  It was as easy as that.

One year it was busy and icy and for whatever reason Chelsea Ann didn’t get as much exercise as she is used to — and she is used to a lot!  She became what my husband and I call a “sausage dog” and she looked ABSOLUTELY RIDICULOUS.  As in, my husband told me she got all round and fat but still had super skinny legs and it was hilarious and I didn’t quite know what he meant but then I stopped in at my parents’ house and I burst out laughing as soon as I saw her.  My dad was not amused.  Unfortunately she was back in good shape very quickly, so now I am giving her an excessive amount of treats to sausage her up again.  Then I’m going to make fun of how fat she is to my dad because my dad’s favourite daughter out of me, my sister, and Chelsea is Chelsea.

The sausage dog plan is actually unrealistic, though, I admit, because I’ve been exercising Chelsea Ann (and Mabelline too!).  WHICH IS WHY I WANTED TO WRITE THIS ENTRY.

This is the point of the entry:

I used to have lots and lots of dogs and now I don’t even own my own dog and it’s saddening to me.  So instead I make up excuses to borrow other people’s dogs and my mom’s dogs practically moved in for half the week so it is going splendidly.

Yesterday and today I hosted a mini-dog party in my backyard.  Chelsea Ann, Mabelline, and my neighbour’s lab, Brandi, all came over to play.


Dogs are really funny.  They’re like children, yet often worse.  I needed to put Chelsea Ann in a time-out because I collected five fucking balls to throw for the dogs and Chelsea still got annoyed when Brandi beat her to a ball.  So then Chelsea was in time-out while I played a bit with Brandi and once I released Chelsea from time-out she was too pouty to want to play outside.  She kept catching the ball and trying to get me to bring her inside.

Brandi, despite being 5 and middle-aged for a dog, had no concept of her own limit.  She’s pretty fat and hops around a lot and she kept running around everywhere and trying to get me to throw the ball and it took so much to get her just to chill on my lawn.  My son ventured outside halfway through the dog party and Brandi loves kids so that again got her all riled up.

Mabelline doesn’t like dog parties because she is a shit dog (shih tzu) and is species-confused and is scared of dogs.  Usually when other dogs visits she hides behind her true friends, my 4 cats, because she relates way better to cats than dogs.  I called Mabel a “dog kitty.”

There is a German Shepherd next door, Honey, and I’d like to invite her to the dog party.  One day she invited herself to a spontaneous party with Chelsea in my front yard and it was so funny trying to catch her.  She had tons of fun, unlike her owner, who was freaking out over the gate being open and nearly in tears when I knocked on the door to tell her that Honey was safe and sound and having a blast at my house.

Also my relatives have some more dogs, like Nikki, Izzy, and Bandit, three Shih Tzus like Mabel, and April, a lab who is a puss like Chelsea.

Ideally I’d like to adopt a relatively independent dog who would be happy to play mainly with my husband and son and is 100% fine with all people and animals.  One day.  My husband and I do not want to rush into adopting our next dog, although our son is impatient.

Tomorrow I have to “switch gears” from chicken farmer/dog party hostess/hamster match-maker (lol another story in itself) to tattoo shop manager.  I wonder if I’ll be able to think of some decent stuff to write about my adventures there.  I try to use a bit more discretion when dealing with people, though; animals dgaf if you call them a pussy over social media (^ Chelsea).



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