Do Not Push

So it read on the back of the dump truck in front of me in morning traffic: “Do Not Push.”  After 7 days alone with the kids and the dogs, it came as a divine intervention. 

I’m exhausted, and it ain’t over yet. 

First things first. Dub is fit as a fiddle, far as the vet can tell. He has the resting heart rate of a champion and the dog can catch a frisbee mid-flight with the grace of a gazelle, IF said gazelle could catch a frisbee and as far as I know, gazelles are not nearly that capable or entertaining.  

Dub in his natural state

Our fine vet, Dr. H., thinks the seizure was a fluke; he hasn’t had another. The blood work came back clean. And the vomiting was likely unrelated.  Or as I summarized for DH on the phone the night he called from Pune, “he’s a puker.”  

But I am growing rather attached to the puker.  He takes his cues from his humans, following us everywhere, resting when we rest, running when we run. Bam-Bam is learning this lesson the hard way – he knocked her down during an overzealous game of — and I quote — CHASE! ME! DOGS!  He has a cold black nose and looks so very interested, when he cocks his head just so, in what I have to say.  

He also barks his head off at anything that walks, rolls, or glides past our house, and we live on a very busy corner.  But I’m just moving into day eight of ten home alone, and the dump truck has spoken. I won’t think about that now. I’ll think about that tomorrow.

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Dogs and Family, Home Alone

Life’s timing isn’t always convenient for those who like to keep it neat and tidy. I personally don’t care so much about neat and tidy, but am indulging in this self-conscious preamble because I know some people would consider my activities of the last week to be poorly planned at best, irresponsible at worst. (Ok, fine; some people is pretty much just my mom.)

To the point, the point, the point. Right. The point is that we decided to get the dogs last weekend lest risk them going to another family. Within 48 hours, I was on a business trip, leaving DH, Pebbles and Bam-Bam to fend for themselves with our new jumping, licking, wagging, barking, 100-pound-combined-weight bundle of joy.

DH knew what to do. He got one of these:

Handy Dandy Leash Coupler

And these:

Four-Foot Leash (more on this topic later)

 

And lots of these:

Nothing says "I love dogs" more than a pocket full of liver snacks

All while I was here, working very hard:

Crate Lake, The Maroon Bells, Colorado

He kept them all alive! I enjoyed three, count ‘em, nights of gloriously uninterrupted sleep, and got some work done. And, um, hiked to Crater Lake.

Seriously, though. Three cheers for DH.  His survival is an accomplishment worth noting. Please do so now, in honor of mostly-modern, contributing husbands and fathers everywhere.