Would anyone like to buy my noisy, noisy, oh-so-noisy cocker spaniel?
He’s a very nice dog.
He only pees in the house when he feels neglected or left out.
He’s crate-trained, but unfortunately he’s not very stoic. He’ll wake you up, whining in the middle of the night.
You’ll stagger out of bed to let him out of the kennel, and he dart out, slamming against door frames and walls, claws skittering against the wood floors. He’ll scramble for the door like his tail stump is on fire, body tense and eager as he bolts straight outside—- to take a drink of water.
When you’re thirsty, you’re thirsty, I guess.
Oh, and if he drinks water, you’ll be woken up in about 2 hours for him to go pee.
When you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go. I guess.
(Note: Do not ignore his whining, or you will be doing laundry and washing a dog the next morning.)
He’s sweet, but not very bright. He’s great with cats, kids, and babies, but did I mention he’s not very bright at all?
He’s not very bright. AT ALL.
In fact, would anyone like to buy my sweet, but very stupid cocker spaniel? He’s for sale! The first person who can promise me a full nights sleep can have him for a nickel!
Last night the DragonMonkey slept through the night. This is a rare occurrence in this household, and is usually accompanied the following morning by much cheering and celebration.
This morning I did not feel rested.
This is due in no small part to Max, the world’s nosiest dog with the world’s tiniest bladder.
After my third time getting up out of bed to meet his drinking and peeing needs, I decided to just leave the back door open and let him roam around the living room. I knew I was taking a chance that he might get into the baby’s toy box (also known as THE BOX THAT HOLDS ALL OF THE TASTIEST DOG TOYS IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE), but after my third time up I really didn’t care.
He could have eaten the sofa and I wouldn’t have minded, so long as I could get some sleep.
Surprisingly, he was very good about not chewing on anything. In fact, he didn’t make any messes at all.
What he did was become extremely depressed that he was stuck out in the cold, desolate, people-abandoned land known formerly known as the living room.
Here is a photo of Max and the DragonMonkey in the living room during the day:
Here is the living room at night, as it appears to Max:
Apparently, without humans the living room is a barren wasteland.
Apparently, without humans the living room is a torturous, depressing place to be.
Apparently, without humans, the only way you can survive the desperate, frightening feeling of being abandoned in the living room is to SIGH.
Big, deep, gusty, riddled-with-depression SIIIIIIIIIIIGHs.
Seriously, how do you yell at a dog for sighing? You can’t, really, especially when they’re as dumb as Max is. All you can do is hope for it go away.
So I did that. I lay in my bed, pressing my pillow over my head, and listened to the symphony of noises that Max made all night long.
Tick, tick, tick, tick! (<— the enthusiastic sound of his nails on the hardwood floors as he approached our bedroom door. I try to keep them trimmed, but they grow at an absurdly fast rate.) Pause. (<— I swear I could actively hear him STRAINING to hear the sound of us waking up.) SNIIIIIIFFFF SNUUUUUFLE SCHLUUUFFF SNIFFFF. (<— the sound of him sniffing beneath the crack of the door, making sure we were still in there.) SIIIIIIIIIIGH. (The sound of him sinking into a depression. Apparently Mistress Becky and that guy who follows her around were still in the bedroom. But the door was closed. That must mean that they don’t love him. At all. They must hate him. They’ve abandoned him. The whole woooorld has abandoned him. He’s all alone, now. Forever. He’ll probably get eaten by wolves, but it won’t really matter, because he has no reason to live anymore.)
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. (<—the slow, melancholy sound of him returning to The Barren Wasteland Formerly Known As The Living Room.) Once there, he would completely ignore the $50 dog bed with its orthopedic mattress and fluffy cover. Who can sleep on a comfortable bed when there's no point in even living anymore? SIIIIIGH.
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick (<— the sound of him making about 37 circles as he tries to fluff up the hardwood floors into something comfortable.) THUMP! (Flopping down onto the floor.)
Realize the floor is actually uncomfortable. Perhaps he didn’t circle enough.
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, FLOP! SIIIIIIIIGH!
I raise my head off the pillow, hopeful at the 30 seconds of silence from the living room. Sleep! At last! I turn over to my side, and steal back some of the covers from The Bean.
The sound of me rolling over echoes into the living room like a gunshot.
Tick, tick, tick, tick! Max trots down the hallway, enthusiastic. He heard something! He heard something in the cave that Mistress Becky has hidden herself in! He will be there to greet her as she comes out! She is testing his loyalty, and he will not be found wanting!
Pause. (The sound of his ear-muscles cracking and popping as he strains them.)
Repeat previous actions. ALL NIGHT LONG.
Does anyone want a noisy, tick-ticking, sighing cocker spaniel? Please?