Pet-sitting Woes (read: never dog sit again)
Last I checked, I didn’t need any reminders of why a yap dog wasn’t the pet for me. Now I check again, and … yep. Still have a perfect understanding of why I can’t/won’t adopt a yap dog at any time in my life. Apartment living or not, the only dogs worthy of their title are the ones that are at least knee-high.
Case in point: this little yipper I’m pet-sitting has nearly caused me to choke several times today alone by letting loose a mini-bark just behind me and then running across the duplex to investigate. He worries the cat, who is much larger than he is and was reported to be “not people friendly” (she’s been rubbing at my legs the whole time I’ve been here). With all the hisses and swats she dishes out, I’d be afraid for the dog’s safety, except that their owner insists this is exercise that occurs regularly.
No, I hadn’t been having any thoughts of a getting a small dog when I move, but if I had been having them, this weekend would have banished them. I mean, this little guy is adorable. He’s got big eyes and wet nose and, though I know he’s well loved and looked after, he’s perpetually trying to gain my attention. He wants to be on my lap, he wants to be held, he wants to be licking my face… (eeeewwwww!)
I don’t understand how people hold dogs. I’ve tried it with this one, and it just doesn’t feel right. A dog is like a plank of wood. One doesn’t hold/cuddle planks of wood, one simply carries them aloft until permitted to put them down. Cats are to be held; they mold into your arms, and their slinky nature allows a great many positions in case the cat is finicky.
Playing with this guy is fun. Relaxing with this guy is fun. But I have a lot of work to do. I don’t have time to be interrupted every fifteen minutes for another game of tug-of-war (during which he disturbingly humps the toy we’re “fighting over”). I certainly don’t appreciate being barked at if I ignore him too long (“too long” is about 30 minutes, for those of you who are interested). This pet-sitting stint is death to the Lazarus I’m attempting to pull, as you can see by the fact that I’m blogging during it.
I'm being growled at for attention right now, in fact, and it's several minutes ahead of schedule for him. If I don't respond to the growls, they will become barks. I estimate that -- yep. Now he's barking. I started writing this thing right after playing with him. Right after.
Love and Pease (and an end to the weekend)
Case in point: this little yipper I’m pet-sitting has nearly caused me to choke several times today alone by letting loose a mini-bark just behind me and then running across the duplex to investigate. He worries the cat, who is much larger than he is and was reported to be “not people friendly” (she’s been rubbing at my legs the whole time I’ve been here). With all the hisses and swats she dishes out, I’d be afraid for the dog’s safety, except that their owner insists this is exercise that occurs regularly.
No, I hadn’t been having any thoughts of a getting a small dog when I move, but if I had been having them, this weekend would have banished them. I mean, this little guy is adorable. He’s got big eyes and wet nose and, though I know he’s well loved and looked after, he’s perpetually trying to gain my attention. He wants to be on my lap, he wants to be held, he wants to be licking my face… (eeeewwwww!)
I don’t understand how people hold dogs. I’ve tried it with this one, and it just doesn’t feel right. A dog is like a plank of wood. One doesn’t hold/cuddle planks of wood, one simply carries them aloft until permitted to put them down. Cats are to be held; they mold into your arms, and their slinky nature allows a great many positions in case the cat is finicky.
Playing with this guy is fun. Relaxing with this guy is fun. But I have a lot of work to do. I don’t have time to be interrupted every fifteen minutes for another game of tug-of-war (during which he disturbingly humps the toy we’re “fighting over”). I certainly don’t appreciate being barked at if I ignore him too long (“too long” is about 30 minutes, for those of you who are interested). This pet-sitting stint is death to the Lazarus I’m attempting to pull, as you can see by the fact that I’m blogging during it.
I'm being growled at for attention right now, in fact, and it's several minutes ahead of schedule for him. If I don't respond to the growls, they will become barks. I estimate that -- yep. Now he's barking. I started writing this thing right after playing with him. Right after.
Love and Pease (and an end to the weekend)
posted by Rehkmira @ 17:23
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