I spent the better part of my childhood scared of dogs. Literally, they scared the living hell out of me. We never had a pooch growing up, just little old Kikki, the family cat, that lived a long, good life. I remember visiting people that did have dogs, and they always seemed to muckle on to me. I'm not sure if they could sense the fear in my body language, or if they could smell the actual shit that I had dropped in my pants due to their existence in the same room as me, I'm just not sure. I distinctly remember being bitten at least twice growing up, and vividly remember having to peddle my mountain bike as hard as my legs could move it to outrun a small pack of dogs out in the middle of freaking nowhere back home in The County. These images still haunt me today, I'm not going to lie to you. Fast forward to about four years ago. Nichole and I were living in Freeport, the original Chateau Marcole. Nichole begged me to get a dog. I insisted that we didn't have enough room for a dog there, and when, someday, we bought our very own house, she could get one then. Secretly, I thought that day would never come. Turns out I was wrong.
We moved into the present day Chateau Marcoligan back in February of 2008, and I don't think we were even fully unpacked and Nichole dropped the bomb on me. Not only did she find the dog she wanted, we had to drive down to New Hampshire to pick him up. His name was Goober, a six month old chocolate lab. Goober, while fitting, wasn't a name we were going to keep. I may not have been really ready for a dog, but I wasn't going to be yelling for Goober out the front door for all the neighbors to hear, no sir. Wanting to keep the name sports related, we went with Yawkey, in honor of the Red Sox. Was I ready for a new member of the family? Not really, but I knew how badly Nichole wanted him, so I had to quickly get over my uneasiness around dogs. It didn't take long either.
Here we are, three years later, and I can't imagine life without our crazy pooch. He's really become my dog, almost. I take him with me any time I go somewhere in the car, most nights he sleeps with his head right on my chest, and he is always there to give me a big hug when I walk in the door after a long day at work. I can see why people call them man's best friend, as he truly is a great companion. Sure, he's crazy and I'm allergic to him, but those are things we can live with, knowing that we have a great dog at home. Recently, Nichole has been wondering if we could add a second dog to the mix. Yawkey would love a playmate she says. I love my dog, but two dogs seems like a lot more for some reason. Well, we've had a chance to find out what it would be like this week.
Our friends, the McCullough's, are on vacation this week, and in exchange for watching Yawkey a few weeks back, we are dog sitting for Noah, their 2 year old lab. The two boys are very excited to have someone to play with, and have had a ball together. As they become more used to being around each other, they have become more well behaved, and the humping has slowed down to almost nothing at this point. It's been a lot of fun watching them interact and play. However, two dogs is a lot more work than one dog. They are both used to different schedules and have different habits. Yawkey is a lazy bastard and would sleep until noon if you let him. Noah likes getting up at 5:00 AM and starts pacing the bedroom. Our backyard is pretty wet right now, due to all the rain and snow runoff, so we can't just let them out the back door to use the "facilities", so we have to take them each out for a walk. We started by doing one at a time so they could focus on the task at hand, and not piss on each other as they try to cover each others scent. It never fails, when you let one out, the other pushes you out of the way and the both end up getting out. Oh, and no matter how much water you give them, they find it completely necessary to fight over who gets to drink out of the toilet. And don't get me started on how much more hair they shed when in a pair versus just one!
Long story short, I'll dog sit another dog, but I'm definitely not ready to get another dog, not at Chateau Marcoligan. Maybe, when we trade up to our next home, a farm with lots of room, named Chateau Marcoligan&baby, maybe then I'll reconsider it all. When they can spend time outside and not try to run to the neighbors to drop stink bombs or chase after the occasional car. All this dog talk reminds me, I need to go get more eye drops, my allergies are killing me! I'm just saying...
About Me
- Mark
- I've always wondered if people actually read this stuff. I never do when I'm on other pages. Well, in case, for some strange reason, you find it necessary, I'll give you a little knowledge. I was born in The County. For those of you who don't konw better, that would be Aroostook County. For those of you who do, your jokes won't work on me, they are lame. I'm the son of an investment banker that squandered his every penny on tuna fish sandwiches in the late 80's, and my mother was the lead singer for the Bangles. Neither of those is true, but again, I'm convinced nobody is reading this anyways. I met my wife at a carnival, and we were married by the bearded lady in front of the entire clown brigade. I have a daughter who is training for the 2012 Olympics where she will compete in the Triple Jump and Javelin. We live in a nice little shanty in the woods and are hoping to one day have running water. Any questions?
