I really don't know what to do with him. He is the outcast at the dog park. He looks at me like I'm killing him if he has to sit in the apartment while I write. He goes on hunger strikes on a regular basis. Everywhere I go, people are constantly telling me how stinking cute he is. Those eyes can melt you. Try going on a walk with him. He is a puller and a zigzagger. I am constantly pulling back in an effort to gain control. Zigging and zagging...trying to trip me like he did last summer. A stronger willed lap dog has never been found.
A couple days ago, I was talking with my daughter on the phone. I was telling her I had a friend staying with me until the end of the month. She asked if my friend yelled at Bob like I do...wtf? ME: I don't yell at Bob...HER: Yes, you do, ALL the time...ME: (defensively) Well, he is so naughty, especially when I'm not paying attention to him. A cat would probably whip him into shape better than me.
How bad can he be, you ask....For my birthday a few months ago, I splurged on a beautiful pair of thigh high, four inch Stuart Weitzman boots. I was so careful with them. I always put them up high on the shelf, shutting my closet door so Bob can't reach them. Even though he didn't seem to be chewing shoes as much, I still put them up high above his range of vision.
The other night, I came home from a networking event and pulled off my boots. I put them on the chaise lounge and never gave them a second thought. I sat outside with my friend while we shared a glass of wine together and talked about what we did that day. Bob has access to come in and out, and I should have figured that when he wasn't out next to me, he was up to no good. After approximately a half an hour, I came back inside and noticed one of my boots lying on the floor. Oh no....I picked them up and wanted to cry. My beautiful boots...the heel of one of them had been chewed by the little shit I call Bob. I just hope Nordstrom can recommend a good cobbler.
These boots can be totaled with the other seven pair of sandals, slippers and Tory Burch shoes he has destroyed. I have a pair of sock monkey slippers he's had his eyes on for a few weeks. I'm just waiting for those to be chewed up. I would have preferred those over the boots. Those came from Target, $13.99. Let's not forget about the two pair of Marc Jacobs sunglasses and my favorite "Winnie the Poo" bear I brought with me for sentimental reasons. Nothing is safe. His specialty seems to be chewing the crotch out of my underwear...sigh...typical man. I hate leaving him in his kennel during the daytime, but just when I think I've "Bob proofed" everything, he finds something else to chew.
I refuse to let him sleep with me. He is a kicker. If I ever decide to actually "sleep" with someone again, Bob is not going to be the one I want to cuddle with.
Walking with him is an adventure, just in his poo alone. I never know what I'm going to see come out of his butt. A few weeks back, I couldn't find his rubber ducky...guess where that was...? He literally drags me to get to the park, where I will let him off leash to run with his best friends, Addy and Killy. The other dogs bully him and he seriously lays down and allows them to lick his "boys". He is a humper too. It's like watching dog porn as my little dog tries to get on the big dogs. AND he's fixed!
If I sit down to write, he is on my lap, trying to sit on my computer. The dog cannot get close enough to me. I come home from the gym and he starts licking the salt off my legs. I get out of the shower and slather lotion on, and he is trying to lick that off too. If I push him off my lap, he starts licking my toes. A few seconds of that okay...an hour...not so much.
Before I started working, I was walking him four times a day. One long, two short, one long. Now, I give him one long, two short and a potty. He has me figured out. He holds on to that potty as long as possible to stretch that potty break out. This is usually around 9pm, when it's cold outside and all I want to do is get ready for bed.
I like to take him hiking with me to the trails where the incline isn't so steep. It literally wears him out and he is good for a seven hour nap. He pulls me up the trail, stops suddenly in front of me, nearly repeating last years' "Bob Accident" and whines all the way back down the trail because he is tired.
He understands two words...cookie and walk. I bribe him with cookies like a good mommy. Most days I forget to grab the cookies and just call out "cookie Bob!" He used to come running...now he is on to me. My latest challenge is to keep him away from the nuts that fall off the trees. They give him diarrhea. He is so fast and his nose is always to the ground. He is like an aardvark...practically sniffing those damn nuts up his nose as he pulls, while I continually jerk his leash up to keep his nose off the ground.
My rule about being off leash is he has to stay off the pavement and "on the grass". I can be heard yelling across the park every morning..."On the grass Bob!!!" Once he escaped into the Japanese gardens when it was closed. Now he is too fat to squeeze under the fence. Good thing.
He always knows when I'm getting ready to leave the house. He watches me grab my keys and runs to the door. Waiting....He looks at me accusingly as I bid him goodbye...standing there...making me feel guilty. I thought for sure my days feeling guilty about being a mother were over. What is it about a dog that can make us feel so shitty?
Over Christmas I left him with my neighbor and her mom. She is 11. She has a dog named "Floppy". Bob loves Floppy and my neighbor. He loves her so much, that he is always trying to get into their apartment instead of ours. He sees them in the dog park, his little butt moving back and forth like a hip hop dancer in time to his tail... He hasn't forgiven me for leaving him yet. His memory is supposed to be about 10 seconds. Bob remembers everything.
The problem I see with Bob is that, he won't be controlled. I've tried rewards. I've read Cesar and put some of his tricks into use. I haven't done puppy school. I did succeed in training him to twirl around and around for a treat. This has now become my party trick when I've had too much wine and want to entertain my friends. I tried really hard to teach him to play dead, but that was an effort in vain. He just kept whirling and twirling. Now he twirls when he sees the leash, food, and cookies.
Just when I think I'm through being controlled by a man, I get a male dog who rules my life. If his entertainment factor wasn't so big...he'd be so gone. He is hard to resist. Stubborn. Willful. Persistent. Naughty. Sweet. Cuddly. Bob. Still the love of my life...but a typical puppy.
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