Today I like: Lululemon
Not so much: Leftover Halloween candy. Ugh.
We have a dog. Rosie. She’s a Rhodesian Ridgeback. If you’re not familiar with Ridgebacks, let me describe the breed: Large. Brown. Floppy ears. Stripe of hair that grows backwards along the spine. Bred to hunt lions and protect homesteads in southern Africa. Loyal and protective. Lovely animals.
That being said, Rosie is driving me mad. She paces the house all day long on a scavenging mission. She knows how to open the drawer wherein hides the ever tempting trashcan. She’s approximately six feet tall when she stands on her hind legs, so she can reach any food item on the counter, from toast crumbs to birthday cakes. She stalks the kids and takes whatever they happen to have in their hands. She goes outside and swipes McDonald’s bags from the poor construction workers building the house next door.
And then, after gorging herself on anything she can find, she stands at the pantry door and whines for food.
“For the love of God,” I say. “You’re not hungry. You just ate an entire rotisserie chicken. Bones and all.”
Rosie: “Mee…meee…eee…errr…errr.”
Me: “No! What about the bag of Hershey kisses? All that tin foil must have been filling.”
She does not hear me. Nor does her stomach, which I assume is lined with South African conflict diamonds or something, since nothing she swallows seems to have one iota of negative effect. (I used to panic when she ate something suspect. Several pricy, pointless trips to the vet later, I just shrug.) I can never send a picture of her to the breeder, who once sent me an email with the tagline: “Is your Ridgeback fit or fat?”
If she got one look at Rosie’s spare tire she’d demand we return her. I guess I could send a head shot, but her cheeks are a bit round, too.
The thing is, I sort of understand why Rosie has OCD. She’s bored. This is my fault. Between three kids, a house, and writing, I don’t take the time to play ball with her or walk her every day or even pet her half the time. She’s looking for something to do. Food is her obsession.
I used to be a dog person. I swear. I had a dachshund named Schnapps, and I had a total blind spot for that little guy. My college roommates hated him, and with good reason, since he barked non-stop and would bite your fingers off if you tried to drag him out from under the bed. (“That dog is the devil.” –Lindsey, circa 1997). I wouldn’t hear a word against him and took him everywhere with me.
At this point, however, poor Rosie is pretty low on the totem pole. At the same time, I understand her malaise. In the year or two before I started writing seriously, I became a bit obsessed with working out. Overdid it on several occasions, once leading to a stress fracture in my tibia that took six months to heal. I agonized over my inability to get out, get on it, get moving. I finally realized I was looking for something to occupy my mind, not necessarily my body. I loved being home with my kids, but as I emerged from six years of baby haze I knew I needed something else. I couldn’t cook and clean and cart kids, not without some additional mental stimulation. I was literally running myself into the ground in my search for some additional, personal purpose.
Once I began writing in earnest, The Cracked Slipper took shape quickly, and suddenly working out became enjoyable again. No more injuries. I’m still extremely active, but it’s a healthy habit.
So, I know Rosie needs mental stimulation, too. Something to take her mind off the trashcan and whatever tidbits might be lurking in it. My dog is struggling with a canine version of The Feminine Mystique. It’s guess it’s up to me to turn her into an enlightened, fulfilled doggy woman of the 21st century. She needs a career, or a hobby, or something. Any ideas?
This is too funny! I have never been a dog person, and now that I’m married to a man who is deathly allergic to cats, we have happily decided to be an animal-free zone. I have too much on my plate as it is!
Girl, I feel you. My kids are pushing for a guinea pig! I envy the serenity (and cleanliness!) of pet free homes. And I mean it, I used to be a dog lover second to none. Oh, how times have changed.
We had a dog just like that when my kids were little (but it was a Golden Retriever so not quite so hyper)…. but I know what you mean. My husband says ship Rosie to us to deal with our squirrel population that won’t leave our bird feeder alone — although he also points out that the squirrels are so fat that it wouldn’t give Rosie a lot of exercise. But that gives me an idea: maybe the SQUIRRELS need a career, a hobby or something besides our birdfeeder!
p.s. I used to live in Kenya and I LOVE Rhodesian Ridgebacks. Amazing dogs. Our 10 year old lab is pretty calm these days, but we’ve always taken her to run in an open space (off leash)… maybe Rosie would like that… or play with other dogs? Lions?
We have alligators but no lions! They are great dogs. And I do feel bad for her! Wish she could keep up with me on my runs, but she either lags behind or knocks me over!!
Oh, I just love your writing, Steph! “She does not hear me. Nor does her stomach, which I assume is lined with South African conflict diamonds or something, since nothing she swallows seems to have one iota of negative effect.” It’s always a treat to stop by your blog–whether you’re discussing doggie dilemmas or novel world building.
Thanks, girl! Not sure if the conflict diamonds are PC but whatev.
Take her to doggy daycare a few times a week so she can get some exercise and stimulation without it totally screwing up your routine! I feel for you though, Sasha basically blends into the floor at this point…..seriously…..I have taken pictures in the house and you can’t tell where the carpet ends and she begins. Poor thing!! At least she is 13 and likes laying around at this point….I guess the same can’t be said for Rosie! xoxo
Yes, Rosie needs to get old fast. She’s a couch potato anyway…but she still needs a little more tlc. Think I’ll take her to the beach tomorrow. I’m motivated!
I am laughing so hard right now. My Shih Tzu solves her boredom by licking every available surface in the house. I guess I’m lucky she’s not big enough to break into anything. This was a long frustrating day and you just made it better!
Thanks, Jane! And believe me, having a huge dog has made me realize that if I do have a dog it needs to fit in my purse! A la Paris Hilton. xo
remember Chloe? what happened to her in your memory banks? she was very cool, very chill and could do things that no other Basset could do. What a champ! Some dogs (people) are just special!
Rosie is a mess, granted. The need to be a lap-dog (at 100 plus pounds)which you did not mention along with her food obessions, hum…. me thinks she needs the doggie version of a funny farm. Love, mom
Thanks, Mom…now I feel like I need to get her a therapist.
And of course Chloe was the best!
Wonder if Rosie is reacting even more from being a new home? Pet stress from the whole environmental change? Mama needs to take her on a jog every day!;-)
I am not kidding when I say stick her on the treadmill. I have a friend that has an easily bored dog as well and she couldn’t take him on walks as much as she would like. She set him on the treadmill and damned if he didn’t love it. Weird but works in a pinch.
Also, she mentioned to me to watch out for flying poop. Since dogs normally get to “pull over” when they feel the urge, they might poop in stride. Maybe set up a towel at the end of the treadmill, just in case.
There. My two cents. Hope it helps Rosie the Rooter stop rooting!
love lulu????!!! tell me about it! since when??