Look What Santa Brought

I think I forgot to mention that the big family Christmas present this year was this:

She's a ShihTzu Poodle mix (yes that would be a ShihTzuPoo) and she's now about twelve weeks old. Her name is Dulcie which is short for Dulcinea. We already have another ShihTzuPoo, a six year old named Cassie (Cassandra), who thankfully doesn't read my blog otherwise she'd find out that I told you she's really a dog and not human as she believes.

Cassie is one of the smartest, sweetest, most lovable dogs you could ever meet - as long as you're a person. She has no tolerance for other dogs. They are beneath her. When we introduced Dulcie to her I was certain she was going to thank us for the new squeaky chew toy then proceed to try to find the squeaker in it and squeak it until it broke (as she does with all her squeaky toys). For about a week she walked around with a look on her face that said WTF? She growled and snarled whenever the puppy came near her. Eventually she seemed to concede that Dulcie might possibly have a right to exist in the same existential plane as her. Then slowly she began to barely tolerate her.

One day I came home from work and found out they had actually played. Together. I didn't believe it when my wife told me. I still couldn't believe it when I saw it with my own eyes.

I thought, my god, there's hope for the Arabs and Israelis (yeah, right). Of course Dulcie, being a puppy doesn't really know when to stop playing so Cassie tells her in no uncertain terms when she's had enough. It usually ends with a snarl and a retreat to the couch which (at the moment) is unreachable to the pup without human intervention. After a period of puppy snarling (which sounds like a sound effect from a Star Wars movie) and jumping up into Cassie's face, Dulcie's microsecond attention span turns to something else to occupy her.

Yes she is a cutie but of course, as with everything, there is a downside. Since Christmas my life seems to have been filled with one of my absolutely LEAST favorite things in the world. Dog Crap. If we're not seeing it or smelling it then we're talking about it. Typical scenario. I get home from work and sit down to dinner to have my wife inform me that Dulcie went all day without any accidents. With my fork poised between plate and mouth I look toward the family room to see Dulcie taking a dump on the floor - right on cue. Apparently she was saving it for me.

Last night before going to bed I stood out in the rain for twenty minutes in a test of wills waiting for her to poop. Neither of us wanted to be out in the rain. Unfortunately only one of us wanted her to poop. I remained positive and gave her praise and a T-R-E-A-T (have to spell it - can't get her to poop on command but boy does she know what a Treat is) when she finally, reluctantly, did her thing. Then we both went inside, wet and satisfied (I really wish I had just written that about someone other than the dog and taking her out to poop), and she immediately ran behind the couch - and wouldn't come out. My wife's in California on a business trip, the kids (and Cassie) were in bed, it's 11 o'clock, I'm wet, tired, and I just want to go to bed. And she wouldn't come out. Not for treats. Not for toys. Not for anything. She'd peek out from the end of the couch like a mouse from her hole but I couldn't get her before she'd dart back out of reach. In a flash of realization it came to me that I was going about this all wrong. I am a person. She is a tiny little dog. I have something she doesn't have. An intelligent, rational mind? No. Opposable thumbs? Well, perhaps. Superior strength? YES! I stooped down, grabbed the end of the couch and with my superhero strength (and remembering to lift with my legs) I moved the friggin' thing out of the way! And promptly stepped on the bottom of the curtains and pulled the rod down on my head. Fuck. Now it's after 11 o'clock, I'm still wet, still tired, I have a bump on my head, curtains on the floor...and I still don't have the dog. Grrr. By now I sounded like Ralphie's dad working on the furnace in "A Christmas Story". Fortunately with the couch now in the middle of the family room Dulcie had nowhere to hide and was apprehended rather swiftly (I think it was because her movements were slowed somewhat by her hysterical laughing. No really. She was laughing at me. I heard it). I then turned my attention to fixing the curtain rod. I couldn't find a wall anchor to put in the now over sized hole so I had to resort to using a much bigger screw. When I get home tonight I'll have to check to see if it came through the siding on the outside of the house.

Don't worry honey. She'll still be there when you get home. And I'll be a babbling idiot. Everything will just like it was when you left.

She really is cute.