The Damn Dog Won’t Shut Up
Last month, I moved back to my Mom’s place in Southern California. It’s been quite the transition (especially going back to the 100-degree heat, which has actually been kind of refreshing) but for the most part, it’s been smooth.
With one outstanding exception. Say hello to Daisy.
My mom actually got Daisy last time I lived out here, so I wasn’t expecting any trouble from her. She’s a good dog, very hyper and mischievous, and as long as you aren’t delivering packages, you’re in her good graces.
She’s a very sweet girl, and she’s always up for cuddles and pets and scritchies And the same is true with me now — as long as I’m sitting down.
But if I try to stand up, if I even move into a position where I start to stand up, she starts barking.
It’s not a friendly bark. It’s not a playful bark. It’s her somebody’s breaking into the house bark. It’s loud, it’s aggressive, it’s a clarion call to wake the dead. She gets right in my way and barks her head off.
To be clear, she’s not aggressive herself. Her tail is moving in a friendly wag, and she hasn’t tried to take a piece out of me or trip me. But she will not stop barking until I’m out of sight or sit back down.
During the day, this isn’t more than an annoyance. Well, it’s a big annoyance, but it’s not actually a problem. At night, though, it’s a different story.
Let’s just say, I keep hydrated. And once or twice a night, I need to get up and deal with the side effects of that hydration. So, while I’m trying to hold my bladder together, I’m running the mental calculus of where is the dog, can I get to the bathroom before she notices me? and can I hold this a few more hours until Mom wakes up?
All that weighed, of course, against How am I going to explain to my mother that I’ve pissed the bed?
Thankfully, we haven’t come to that dire straight yet.
Once or twice, I’ve been able to evade Daisy. But most of the time, she gets me. The floor creaks with my footsteps and she comes rushing out of her hidey hole, barking loud and proud of her defensive role in the family.
I’d like to hope that things will get better, and that I’ll be able to visit the fridge or the toilet without being heralded. But it’s been a month already, and Daisy’s giving no signs that she wants to stop.
But, as in all things, I hope. Or try to.