Do not be fooled by the picture in yesterday's post. Bliss is only occasional. Angus needs correction, Rosie gets jealous, there are still run-ins. Five seconds ago, for instance. Let's see if I can recreate what just happened:
Angus found a tennis ball. He lay down and started chewing on it.
Rosie loves tennis balls.
Rosie didn't want Angus to have a tennis ball.
Trouble was imminent.
I found an old elk antler and gave it to Angus and took the ball away.
Trouble averted? No, you novice. Trouble not averted.
Rosie came over and seemed verrrrrrry interested in the elk antler (which she had partially chewed and then abandoned months ago).
I gave Rosie the high-value round knuckle bone she had been chewing yesterday. (Technically, it is Angus's--the only thing he has from his foster home other than his frog blanket and a blue fabric chew toy.)
If she had taken it quickly and disappeared, all would be fine. But no. She decided to sniff it. Look at it. Ponder it. Until Angus noticed it. Rosie trots over to her bed, chews bone, Angus abandons elk antler, heads over to Rosie, and I hear snarl, squeak, Angus shoots into his kennel and cowers.
I take everything away.
Angus emerges from kennel.
Now, please realize, Rosie could (as she does most mornings) go down the basement and read the newspaper with Doug. But this morning she thinks her job is to protect everything in the house from Angus. I decide to ignore them, let them sort it out. Suddenly--snarl, squeak, Angus shoots across the living room and cowers under the dining room table.
There seemed no real impetus for this, other than Rosie being in a mood and Angus being a puppy.
I put Rosie in the basement.
Rosie barks.
I let her back upstairs.
Last night I got up at 11:15 p.m. and 2 a.m. for backyard-minus-five-degree visits. (Miraculously, Angus slept from 2:30 until after 5.)
I am tired. I am wondering why I got a puppy.
Rosie just got up and went down the basement. Angus is trying to follow her. It is 6 a.m. It is going to be a long day.
(Postscript: On the plus side, he shot into his kennel and cowered. This is amazing and wonderful. We have never had a puppy love his kennel from Day One. It does make things easier.)
Awww. Poor Angus. Whenever I have introduced a new kitten to our family, I have had to be referee 24-7 and protect the kitten from jealous cats. Sigh.
ReplyDeleteDon't know where I read this, but your post brought it to mind: "'It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.' Charles Dickens must have had a puppy."
ReplyDeleteI appreciate your keeping it real as your photos can tempt even cat families into considering a puppy. Looking forward to the next installment.
ReplyDeleteRun.
DeleteWhen I adopted my little wire-haired dachshund (Schatzi) I also had a black Lab, Callee. Schatzi, no bigger than my TV remote then, kept bugging Callee who found peace on my bed, which, of course, was out of reach for Schatzi. This went on for weeks until Schatzi found the cat... and the cat fixed that!
ReplyDeleteWhen the puppy had Callee’s (!!) tennis ball and Callee wanted it, Callee would run to the window and bark as though there was something to bark at. Worked every time: puppy dropped ball and it became Callee’s. Never-ending entertainment....