Gone to the Dogs

When I open my laptop, I see a picture of my two beautiful granddaughters and their extremely large German Shepard, Taisha. She is a magnificent specimen and a true friend and protector of my daughter’s family.

I love dogs. I’ve had them all my life and continue to this day. Here’s my dilemma: We have one dog, who has been with us for the majority of his life so far, but, my 23 year old daughter has moved back in and has brought her (I hesitate to call it a) dog with her.

My dog, Porky, is as set in his ways as I am. We are both getting older and fatter and enjoy lying on the couch; me on the front, him on the back.

We’re not quite sure what breed Porky is, but, we believe he could be part miniature pincher and part dachshund. He is short and fat and looks like both. I know a little about dachshunds. I had one when I was young. Her name was Inky and she would smile, wiggle and pee, but only when my Dad came through the door. Porky doesn’t smile because he apparently doesn’t find anything all that funny. He can’t really wiggle because he’s too fat and when he does pee on the floor, it is because he is getting old and has trouble holding it. I hesitate to say we have a lot in common.

My daughter’s dog, Prince, is a young, energetic, Yorkshire Terrier. He looks like a small mop without a handle and is constantly getting underfoot. He scratches at the door to go outside so that he can run to the other door and scratch to come back in. If he sees me walking through a room, he immediately grabs one of his toys and starts to shake it violently because he just knows that the only reason I am here is to play with him. To Prince, there is no other reason for anyone to be walking through the area. He carries around a stuffed dog that is about three times bigger than he is and he plops it at the feet of whoever happens to be in a sitting position. This all takes place around Prince marking his territory. He has, so far, claimed the trash can, the couch, an armoire and 3 or 4 house plants. He would be easy to get very annoyed with if he wasn’t so damned adorable. There just isn’t a way not to love that tiny face.

At first, Porky and Prince did not get along. Prince was busy being Prince and Porky was busy being jealous and protective of his territory. That means that Porky is now re-marking territories being claimed by his little houseguest, who then lifts his tiny leg in the ultimate show of defiance as if to say, “Uh uh, Gramps. Methinks thou dost protest too much.”

Well, my daughter, being a grad student and 23 years old, is never home. I guess we all know what that means. That’s right, Dad gets to take care of the granddoggie. Feeding him, making sure the water bowl is filled, letting him out and in and out and in and out (which is where he is right now, scratching on the other door to come back in).

Porky has made the wise decision to pretty much ignore Prince, with the exception of the natural process of reclamation of territory and I try to be careful where I walk, not wanting to step on him or any of his residuals. Porky is still on the back of the couch and I am still on the front. Just a couple of old dogs trying to learn the trick of acceptance as taught by a mop without a handle.

THAT’S HOW I FEEL………………WHAT CAN I TELL YA’