In The Doghouse

My house has gone to the dogs... literally.  The dogs, Missy and Maggie, have led me to believe for years now that I was the queen of the house. But, recently I have come to realize that I have been played... duped... and used. I thought the occasional snickering I was hearing was just one of my personalities making fun of myself but, noooo... as it turns out I believe the dogs are sharing a good laugh on my behalf. Missy and Maggie have formed an alliance against me, and plot and manipulate to get what they want when they want it.  I, the queen of the house, have been dethroned.

Years ago when we were house breaking the dogs, we trained them to go outside to do their "business".  When they accomplished the task, we would go back inside and they would be rewarded with a treat. All this time I thought I was a master trainer teaching them they would be rewarded when they did what I wanted them to do.  I have started to notice that they race outside, squat n' squirt, then run back inside straight to the pantry door waiting on their treat. I think I overheard them as they ran past me saying, "It didn't take the old gal long at all to learn to give us a doggie biscuit every time we pee. She's a fast learner."

I thought we were done having toys strewn about the house ever since Amber and Kayla discovered boys were much more fun than toys. Their toys laying all over the floor, eventually turned to clothes, makeup and every hair appliance and product know to teenage girl world.

Toys have once again become the decor, only this time instead of baby dolls and tea sets, it is balls, ropes, stuffed animals and squeaky toys. I used to make the girls pick up their toys, but no amount of coaxing and treats have been able to get Missy and Maggie to put their playthings back in the toy basket. Why would they, when the treat lady will eventually pick it all up anyway. Besides I've become quite agile at running the obstacle course of doggie toys as I'm moving throughout the house. Accidentally stepping on a squeaky toy actually jolts me into a quicker step sending me running off a little faster.

I am also the doggie doorman. I let them out and then back in wherever the urge strikes them. All they have to do is go stand at the door and I'll stop whatever I'm doing to go open the door so they can go out. It's either open the door or take the chance of having to break out the carpet cleaner, so I am at their beckon call. When they want back in, they jump on the door and bark. To avoid having their incessant barking make every nerve in my body tighten and quiver, I go open the door... again, so they can come back in. They have trained me well.

I remember when the girls were little, how I wished I could eat or drink without always having to share. Amber and Kayla would come running to see what I had, and would beg for a bite or drink. The "backwash" that would be floating in my drink after one shared drink, kind of ruined the enjoyment of the beverage. I quickly learned to camouflage the sounds of eating or drinking.

Nowadays, the dogs come running when they hear the sound of anyone rummaging around in the kitchen. The sound of food wrappers should be marketed as a dog call. I've learned a dog's hearing is far more sensitive than a kid's, so I'm having to come up with better strategies to eat without an audience. Every time we sit to eat, we have hot doggie breath on our legs, as well as any cute trick they can muster to cajole a morsel from our plate. The dogs know what works and use it to the best of their abilities. We're suckers for cute.

We are now coming home sooner than we want to and before we're ready, because we know the dogs need to be let out. We plan our vacations around when we can get house and dog sitters because heaven forbid our furry family members should be taken to a kennel. The one time we took Missy to be boarded for a weekend, she was traumatized. When we went to pick her up, she saw us and immediately peed all over the floor. We vowed then, we would never do that to her again. So now the dogs are in charge of when we go and when we come back. I'm waiting on them to learn to snap their paw fingers to get my attention because they need service.

Now, added to Missy and Maggie, the permanent doggie residents, is the first grand-dog, Zoey. She is a rescued dog so she has sympathy going for her in her attempts to train us as well. Because Kayla, grand-dog's adopted mom, has a full time job, Zoey has to stay penned up in a travel kennel while mom's away. So because this is a doghouse, Zoey has been coming over in the morning for doggie daycare. I now have three dogs following me from room to room as I go throughout the house. I'm a glutton for punishment.

Last night while Richard and I were eating dinner, along with three dogs all in a row tap dancing for a bite, I heard a noise in the garage. I didn't think too much about it the first time but, the second time I heard it, I had to get up to investigate. We keep the dog food in a closed bin right outside the kitchen door in the garage. As I opened the door, the lid from the dog food bin was off, the tub was turned over and nothing was left inside except the scoop used to dish out the food. A wandering dog had somehow pawed the lid off and helped himself to quite a feast.  I don't know why I'm shocked. I'm sure somewhere above my house is a blinking neon sign reading, "TREATS & EATS... GREAT SERVICE!"

The saying goes, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks". Well, I'm proof that is not true. I have been trained very well. I just hope the dogs don't decide it would be fun to see me jump through hoops or roll over... this old dog could break a hip.