Its a Dogs Life: damage

Friday. My favorite day of the week. Usually, on Fridays I can crank out my work in a few hours and then have the rest of the day to get caught up on non-work stuff that needs to be done. On normal days that is, apparently not when I am house and dog-sitting.

As I walked out into the living room first thing this morning to let 18 adult dogs out to do their business, I passed Puppy Prison. Puppy Prison (as I've come to call it in my mind) is about 10' x 12', and in most homes it's known as the Dining Room. Here, it's the dining room sans furniture, surrounded by x-pens with comfy beds inside, water, dog toys, food bowls, puppy pads and two monsters cleverly disguised as adorable, sweet, fluffy, white, Silken Windhound puppies.

First thing I notice, is that rather than use the puppy pads for their intended purpose, the two monsters decided it was by far more entertaining to shred them into 15,000 pieces and play in it until the fluff was everywhere. Then, pee a medium sized lake in the middle of their area and drop some poo. Both of which, was then tracked all throughout their area. SIGH.

I walk past the Prison, to the front door, to let the adult Silkens outside. As 18 dogs are streaming by me, I notice a dead rodent on the porch left from one of them in the dark the night before. By the time I shut the door (it's cold outside), get something to pick it up and dispose of it with, it's gone. A tasty morning appetizer for someone, no doubt. Yum.

I go back to Puppy Prison to grant the monsters parole by putting them outside in their (separate from the other dogs) area while I clean up the mess. As soon as I pick up one of the pups, he pees and wets my shoes, down the leg of my pants, and leaves a river all the way to the doggy door. I get them outside, wipe up the river, and go back to cleaning the first thing I noticed -- the mess in the puppy pen, which takes about 45 minutes.

After cleaning the Prison, mixing dog food for 20 and feeding everyone (including horses and llamas and koi), I put my clothes in the washer to wash and disinfect and go take a hot shower. Puppies are now safely back in prison for the interim so I shouldn't have messes around the house. By this time I am thinking I need a glass of wine.

One of the little monsters needs to visit the vet today and get a health certificate since he's going to his new home soon. After showering, while my clean clothes are drying, I put a new collar on the pup and locate a leash. I make a half hearted attempt to find a crate, but figure that the vet is only a couple miles away, IT WILL BE OK. After all, the monster has been for car rides before!

After I get dressed in my clean clothes, clean up lake #2 of the day in the Puppy Prison (thankfully no shredded pads at the moment, but can we pee anywhere near one??? Hell NO). I scoop up the pup who is going for a ride on one arm and my checkbook, wallet, keys and notebook (with health cert info) in the other. I attempt to head out the door and keep 18 dogs at bay. Only 6 squeak by me as I get out. I realize as I shut the door in the face of 12 silkens that I forgot the address to the vet on the kitchen counter, but I feel pretty confident that there can only be one vet on Sunnyside Road in rural Damascas Oregon.

I get out the yard and am able to keep the 6 Silkens inside the gate, but by now the puppy is NOT happy, so I set him on the ground while I latch the gate behind me. Puppy freaks out, what is this rope around my neck? Why can't I run down the driveway as fast as possible -- far, far away from you mean evil woman making me wear a collar and leash, what is stopping me??

In the commotion of trying to calm the puppy down, I drop everything in my other arm. Checkbook falls to the ground, my wallet flies open and business cards/credit cards/papers go everywhere. Oh, and did I mention it's a total downpoor outside right now? I pick up puppy and put him in the back of my Forerunner, go back and pick up all my dropped things/papers. 10 minutes to get to the vet, into my car I go. We are off.

Half a mile down the road, I smell poo. Gads of it. I look over my shoulder and puppy is having issues.....liquid poo is everywhere. Puppy is laying in poo. Puppy is tracking poo all over back of my car. Puppy is coated in poo and crying. I make it to the vet and poor little puppy is not doing so well.

I leave the puppy in the car and run into the vet to apologize and ask, can I reschedule? Vet says, not if your puppy is vomiting blood you do not want to reschedule! (I think to myself, the other horsemen of the apocolypse have already visited me today why not that one?) My blank look prompted one of the techs to say, aren't you the one who called a few minutes ago about your dog vomiting blood? And I say, aren't you Sunnyside Vet Hospital? And they say NO....it's the next vet hospital down Sunnyside Road on your left. Back in my car I go.

Another half mile down the road, and now puppy is projectile vomiting. As I roll down all my windows as much as I dare to avoid my own nausea from the overwhelming smells in my vehicle, it starts to hail. Hail and rain pelts my face and arms as we head to Sunnyside Vet Hospital. Puppy now is wearing vomit and poo, and so is much of the back of my vehicle.

Fortunately the vet is very nice and lets me reschedule for 11am tomorrow. Also they loan me a crate, since by this time I am on the verge of tears. Okay, there were some tears but I blinked them all away before they spilled over. Back in my car I go.

Poor little puppy is now foaming at the mouth and terrified, we head fast for home. I get back to home base, and now I have to carry a poop/vomit covered puppy inside while keeping 6 Silkens from getting out the gate. So much for clean clothes just an hour ago.

As I get near the front door, the 6 hounds in the yard surround some treasure by the door. A dead rodent, but different from the one this morning. How do I know? This one has front legs AND a head. I do manage to get this one away from them and in the garbage before it, too, disappears.

I give the puppy a bath, blow dry him until dry and fluffy, then go out in the pouring down rain/hail with a hot soapy bucket and cleaning supplies. Haul out all the blankets/dog beds and spray off the vile nastiness with a hose, in the rain. Get all the puppy fluids cleaned out from between the folded down rear seats where it ran all they way down to the floorboards. Finally, my car smells like Green Apple Palmolive dish detergent. Get all the blankets in the washer. I am now not only covered myself with you know what, I am wet and cold from cleaning out my car in a downpoor.

Take a shower, again. Change my clothes, again. And, now I am having that much needed glass of wine that I first thought about before noon today, and it's only 6:30pm. Two Buck Chuck and I are going to become well acquainted.

Dare I venture what more can possibly happen today?

Update, 8:20pm. The demise of yet another puppy pad:

Cute? Yes.
Adorable? Yes.
Lovable? Yes.
Destructive? .....ummm......

We have a beautiful antique secretary that we bought almost 20 years ago. Tonight I blew a gasket when I discovered what happens when a dog bed gets too close:

Then, as I was taking the photo above, I noticed some more chew marks under the dining room table on the inside of one leg:

So, at this point I thought I'd document for all of you who think you want a puppy some other examples right now in our home to show what a puppy (or two, or three) can do to a perfectly normal middleclass home.

In the next room, we have an antique wing back chair that I've also had for about 25 years and really did plan to re-upholster some day as it DID have beautifully carved wood scroll arms:

The next piece of furniture is a Mission style futon. Oh so convenient to lay on and gnaw at the arm:

But, that's just the corner. A baby Silken Windhound cut her teeth all along that same arm about a year ago:

From the futon, look to the stereo cabinet about six feet away, and you'll see this wonderful artistic self expression:

Now we can turn the corner into the entry, where we're doing some home remodeling and widening doorways. Catherine thought she'd help:

Next doorway to the right:

Turn 90 degrees to your left, and we have a beautiful Mission style handcrafted table that Rowan likes to nibble on when she's trying to get our attention to go for a walk:

Across from the table, Catherine tried to chew threw the wall to get to Mom taking a bath one day on the other side of the wall:

And, once in that bathroom, the wood door frame makes a tasty snack:

Going into our bedroom....we really must look into Catherine's apparent Gypsum Deficiency before it's shocking:

This is one of our bedstands, at perfect chewing level when laying on the bed:

Also, levelor blind drawstrings are DELICIOUS:

Still want a puppy?