… on addiction and The Shepherds
February 07, 2014
You know, there is a deep underbelly to the world of German Shepherd blog fame.
I mean, you feed them and shelter them and snuggle them (okay, I think maybe they might mistake a hug for a hostage situation sometimes, but intent matters). And you have wonderful dogs who require only the occasional attitudinal adjustment (usually involving sitting on them, but don’t tell anyone because… what’s the doggie equivalent of DSS?
ASS?
Animal Social Services?
Okay, ASS).
But you know what? I don’t think I’m worried. Because if the badge-wielding ASS does show up at my door, I’ll just say anyone who told on me was mistaken because I was talking about dog sitting, not sitting on dogs.
Go ahead and report me.
I’m teflon.
Okay, so anyway I want to get back to the dark side of Shepherd blog fame.
Drugs.
Nope. Not puppy crack (we’ve talked about that before, and that’s bad enough).
Now that they are more famous, it turns out puppy crack was just a gateway drug.
Now it’s snow.
And right now, snow is like everywhere.
It’s just all over the streets.
Even when the experts come and do a sweep (today they call it a ‘plow’), the snow just comes back.
And the dogs love it.
They can’t get enough.
They’re addicts.
And they will lie to get it.
This morning I was supposed to wake up, bring the dogs out, make coffee, drink coffee, shower and be ready because the plumber needed to come as I walked into a plumbing emergency when I arrived on Tuesday.
So I was at number two, ‘put the dogs out’, which was supposed to be a ‘potty only’ out. No play, no snorting snow.
I know the deal now, they fake play in the snow, and then they snort it when they think I’m not looking.
Okay, fine. They do it even when I’m looking.
Anyway, there was no time for snow snorting this morning.
None.
However, Blaze found a tennis ball just before we went out.
And Marshal was leaping around expressing his agreement that we should go play with the ball that Blaze found.
So I explained to them that they had, by that time, lost four other balls outside (since yesterday) because there’s a ton of fluffy snow and they keep loosing their tennis balls under it.
And they motion that they are German Shepherds and have amazing senses of smell (at least I thought that was what those paw gestures meant) and express their desire, again, to go outside and play with Blaze’s ball.
Fine.
FINE!
So we go out side and Blaze forks over the ball and I insert it into the Chuck-It and I chuck the ball, and it flies across the entire yard (man, those Chuck-Its can chuck!)
And The Shepherds explode after it.
And, after a couple of minutes, they come back.
Without the ball.
Geez.
So I go to where I think the ball went and they are putting their noses into the snow and sniffing around like wacko dogs, but I realize that it is all a farce because they are snorting snow right there in front of me!
And I know this because… I can see the ball.
It’s right in front of them!
So I tell them the ball is right there and they proceed to put their beaks back in the snow and start running around like morons snorting more snow.
Which then not only cakes their noses but sends them into sneezing fits.
So now they are sneezing and have snow beaks and now I’m afraid they are about to O.D. on the snow.
So I pick up the ball and put it in the Chuck-It and call them to attention.
And they notice the ball and think I’m magic, and start whooping it up. And I chucked the ball again.
And they took off again.
And they came back without the ball.
Again.
And after five more treks across the entire yard (man, those Chuck-Its can chuck), I said we needed to go back inside because of the plumber.
And the real potential of an overdose.
They were totally dejected but they came.
And I got inside and I had two texts.
The first was the plumber confirming that he would be here when he said he would.
The second was him canceling.
And I looked up at the ceiling and then back down, just as Marshal Dillon Dingle came around the corner with the ball from the Chuck-It in his mouth.
And my little addicts – completely out of their minds on snow (which I think is an ‘upper’) are running back and forth between me and the back door, insisting that this time their noses would work perfectly and they wouldn’t lose the ball.
Liars.
So I calmly poured some more coffee and took my cup to the window and gazed out at the snow and the water.
We went out nine times today.
Tomorrow, it will be no more than eight.
I will taper them off slowly.
Because there is no way they will survive going cold turkey in the spring.
I hear snow detox is a bitch.
Thanks for readin’.
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