As some of you know, my husband and I have two adorable (when not chewing on the couch) basset hounds. Moira, who is one year and a half, and Lucy, who is only 8 months old. We got both dogs since they were puppies, so we’ve been, and still are going through the whole training process with them.
Each dog has its own personality. Moira is quiet, reserved, yet she won’t turn down a belly-rub. Lucy, on the other hand, is like our rebel child. When you scold her she actually barks back, as if arguing with you, yet she always wants to be sitting next to you on the couch, and giving you kisses. Both my dogs are very sociable, with people and other dogs, though you can say Lucy is more outgoing than Moira. They have their group of friends that they socialize with: Dorothea, a four year old Daschund, Mia, a 1 year old chihuahua mix with who knows what other dog, Lula, an eight year old Daschund and obsessed with tennis balls, and Nina, a twin of the Simpson’s dog. Whenever they all get together, they run, bark, and go after the ball, when Lula gets distracted and drops it long enough for any dog to get it. I swear that Lula even does her potty business while holding on to the ball.
I have to admit that thanks to my dogs I have met new people, other dog owners and we’ve begun to hang out. We even have our own desperate housewives meetings every now and then, when one of us needs to blow off some steam.
Anyway, we were at one of out neighbors’ apartment, Dorothea’s parents to be exact, and we decided that since Lucy and Moira had already had their afternoon run, and it was already nine o’clock at night, then they’d fall fast asleep. BIG MISTAKE! While we were eating pizza and hanging out with our neighbors, Lucy and Moira had a party of their own, and that was when Lucy’s interior decorator tendencies kicked in.
When we opened the door, two or three hours later, it was to find the living room couch totally pushed to one side, and one of the arms of the couch totally ripped off, the foam they put inside all scattered around the floor, and two dogs that wagged their tales as if nothing had happened. I guess I was too shocked to be angry, I think I even burst out laughing at some point. But my husband was furious. Yet, he is the kind of person who doesn’t explode with anger, but you can still feel it vibrating from him, and even the dogs sensed it too, for they immediately ran to their bed and lay down, as if anticipating their punishment (which involves the leash, the training collar and many hard, loud “no’s” while rubbing their noses on the thing they chewed).
Thankfully, my husband is a man of many talents. Not only did he manage to sew back the arm of the couch, but he also added a flare of color by putting a small blanket over it, to cover the fact that this had been the third time the dogs ripped the fabric and that we had to use foam from Lucy’s bed to add filling to the arm.
I guess it is one of the downfalls of having dogs in an apartment. At some point, something is going to end up chewed, ripped apart or swallowed. So far we have lost to either Lucy’s or Moira’s teeth: two pairs of flip flops, an Ipad cord, an exam (yes, the old proverbial saying the dog ate my exam, well that actually did happen to me), a page from a book, the power cord from my laptop, an apple TV remote, and a blue ray remote control.
However, we have gained company, loyalty and two pairs of long ears that move from side to side along with their heads, as if actually listening to what we have to say.