When I bought a dog after buying a house, I naturally assumed that I could get a loving dog that would sit at my feet while I spent hours at my desk writing. I was unaware that a relationship with a dog required training, perseverance and patience. Everyone in the family shared my childhood family dog and he never graced us with his cheerful personality. Therefore, when I brought my dog home, my kids named him Spencer and he was going to be my writing companion.
Spencer was as loving as he was disobedient. The disobedient part seemed to start from the minute we brought him home. I had wanted to raise Spencer as an inside dog, but he got into trouble everywhere he went. One wag of his tail and everything on a low table was all over the floor. He was stubborn and resistant to house training. “No,” became my favorite word as I tried harder to train him. Often times he lost his footing on the tile floors and ended up sliding across the floor knocking over whatever things were in his path. I hadn’t bought my house as a fixer-upper, but it was soon to be one with this out of control dog. I thought, how would I ever manage with this horse in my house?
Spencer was the World’s Worst Dog before Marley the dog ever came along. After some agonizing family talks, we decided to let Spencer live outside. We built a doghouse and had a party to go along with Spencer moving to the yard. You couldn’t have asked for a happier dog, the yard was all his and Spencer took on the role of an Alpha Male dog. By now, he weighed 90 pounds and he greeted us by jumping up on us and putting his paws on our shoulders.
With more energy than sense, he took it as a challenge to dig, chew and destroy anything that was in the yard. Spencer chewed window screens, dug out trees and the sprinkler system.
His favorite place was viewing the yard from the top of the metal box that housed the air-conditioning unit where he stood tall as king of the yard.
I hoped he would soon outgrow this behavior because I didn’t have much of a yard left. I thought maybe Spencer just needed more attention and spending the morning outside writing would be perfect for both of us. Spencer greeted me in his usual way with his paws coming to rest on my chest licking my face, never mind that I was holding a hot coffee mug. I did not return a greeting because I saw that my webbed lawn chair was shredded in pieces all over the yard.
I could only respond in an unbelieving tone, “Spencer you dummy, you ate my chair.” Even as I yelled at him, he still had that goofy good-natured look. I put my coffee down so I could pet Spencer, feeling bad that I had yelled at him. I did not want to give up hope that someday Spencer would be my writing companion, but he seemed to prefer doing it on his own time.
this post is part of the Saturday Morning Blog Hop.