The Rascal, Uncovered
My good friend Kimberly and her kids stayed at our house while we were in Florida over Thanksgiving week. Today, I finally caught up with her on the phone to see how things went.
Turns out Dudley was a Rascal.
Big surprise, right? But the truth is, aside from Alicia over at My Dog Owns Me, no one (but another owner of a weimaraner) can understand the full meaning implied by the word, “rascal.” Dudley was up to his usual shenanigans, which I was not surprised to hear. But poor Kimberly and her kids were quite unaccustomed to a canine who is taller than the dinner table and can easily eat all the food off all the plates in the time between setting the table and calling the kids to sit down. He eats sticks of butter left unattended. He eats cakes out of the oven. He will grab a verbotten toy and trot by you with a flitatious gait while you are changing a baby’s diaper and unable to chase him. He will rearrange the pillows on the couch and bury a bone in the crevice while you are trying to make dinner. He will defend his food from other dogs, children and crickets with the utmost intensity. He will sleep on your lap, on your feet or on your head if you let him. He will bury his nose in your crotch when you have an armload of groceries and can’t defend yourself. He will bark at the door for hours, not because he wants to go out, but because he wants you to go out with him. He will drink out of the baby bathtub if you forget to drain it right away. He will make himself a bacon and egg breakfast when no one is home and use the last of the eggs without writing it down on the grocery list. Ok, that last one was made up.
In Kim’s words, “He’s as much work as a toddler. I really feel for you.”
Ah, Dudley. Today he was the perfect dog. Obedient, calm, appropriately loving and gentle. I think he’s afraid we’re going to find out what he was up to while we were away. Little does he know that the tattle has already been told.
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And just for fun, here is one of my favorite shots of Kenny and me from Florida…
Ahhh, Mr. Dudley. It sounds like you had a very happy Thanksgiving with your unwitting roommates for the week. Hopefully they also possessed the key to living with a Weim — a sense of humor :). By the way, Lance told me to give you a high five for your own week well lived.
November 26th, 2006 | #