Sunday, February 10, 2008

there's a dog in my house

I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother. Winter's got to be a hard time--to take care of her, and for her to stay safe and well. Sometimes you want to be able to force people to do things. To do the right thing. It's so hard. Let me know if anything new develops.

I've been busy. Too busy to dye more yarn to fix my gloves, too busy to start any new projects, and I'm getting bored with what I'm working on now. That makes for less knitting because it's less interesting.

I thought I should let you know there's a dog in our apartment right now. I think I want it to leave. It feels like a stranger is in the room with me. Plus I'm afraid to take it outside to pee.

Let me explain. So this homeless (and previously abused) dog shows up earlier in the week, and James' colleague takes it home. Except since they already have three dogs and maybe seven cats, they don't want to keep it. Thus begins a week of pleading on James' part to convince me to give the dog a home. This started with him waking me up in the middle of the night and trying to carry on a conversation with me. That went well. There are so many reasons why this is a bad idea. For one, the dog is too big, and not allowed in our apartment complex. For another, we have a timid little rabbit that is sitting in her cage in another room, who hasn't been let out all evening because of this dog. Plus, oh, let's see. Who do you think would end up taking care of the beast?

So we finally go and I agree to visit the dog. That's this morning. We take rabbit with us so that I can prove to James that it's a bad idea. Only, oddly enough she seemed completely unperturbed with the presence of this dog (although that quickly changed once the dog intruded on her turf). So I was convinced. Partially. Enough. The dog came home.

In the parking lot. Dog hops out. Crawls underneath the car. Refuses to budge. Friendly demeanor gone. Growls and bites when we try to drag him out. Sandwich meat proves a partially successful motivator. Slips out of collar. Runs loose in the parking lot. James uses leash as a choke collar. We find out the dog doesn't know how to walk up steps. Final effort to get the dog in the apartment involves carrying a very unhappy pooch up the steps.

Now that he's here, he's content and docile as can be. But still. I'm not taking him outside. If he has to pee, it's going to have to be in the apartment. At least until James comes home.

I think this dog has to go. Oh, and I definitely felt his teeth on me in the parking lot. That's not cool. I like my vegetarian rabbit. She only nibbles at me. And she definitely doesn't scare me.


No comments: