Today was quite an eventful day for both Bosco and his owners [read: faithful slaves].
Halfway through a ridiculous walk that entailed defiant pulling, feigned deafness, and unrelenting pebble-eating, the girlfriend and I decided that the only way to beat this kid was to fight fire with fire. So we ran like no dog walkers had run before.
After all the wheezing and dripping sweat stopped, the little monster came home, drank a gallon of water, and plopped his little bum onto the cold floor to sleep (about 400 metres away from the crate where we actually wanted him). Of course we had to carry his drowsy ass into the crate shortly after.
We had a bbq to prepare for so we decided that it would be a good time for Bosco to get some practice being home alone and locked in a crate. For the 40 minutes we were away, about 39 of that was spent whining. The remaining one minute was spent realizing that we had actually left him alone.
Fortunately for Bosco, we had to sit our neighbor's westie-poo Noodle for the night. And boy, you haven't seen dogs play until you see Bosco and Noodle go at it. These guys played their little hearts out, even as we made an attempt to entertain guests for the bbq.
About an hour into the rough and tumble, as Noodle began to tire of Bosco's pushy attitude, the girlfriend had an amazing idea to put the two together in the same crate. Bosco, finally having Noodle in a confined space, jumped at the opportunity and mounted his jailbait, teaching Noodle a little lesson in soap retention. Things were all groovy following Bosco's cigarette, and the two coexisted peacefully for the rest of the night.
The rest of the bbq went great as Bosco was let outside to poo and was so excited to start playing with Noodle again, that he walked back towards the door mid-squat, resulting in a solid poo-stomping. While the girlfriend battled with Bosco to wash his shit-stained foot, I was seconded to the poo-cleaning relief squad outside on the porch where Bosco had missed the 5'x5' newspaper square entirely. Fumbling in the rain with no shoes on, I attempted to use the newspaper to hastily clean up the mess. Unfortunately in my haste, I managed to get a bare thumb and forefinger full of soft Bosco excrement.
Oh the joys of being a puppy owner...
Halfway through a ridiculous walk that entailed defiant pulling, feigned deafness, and unrelenting pebble-eating, the girlfriend and I decided that the only way to beat this kid was to fight fire with fire. So we ran like no dog walkers had run before.
After all the wheezing and dripping sweat stopped, the little monster came home, drank a gallon of water, and plopped his little bum onto the cold floor to sleep (about 400 metres away from the crate where we actually wanted him). Of course we had to carry his drowsy ass into the crate shortly after.
We had a bbq to prepare for so we decided that it would be a good time for Bosco to get some practice being home alone and locked in a crate. For the 40 minutes we were away, about 39 of that was spent whining. The remaining one minute was spent realizing that we had actually left him alone.
Fortunately for Bosco, we had to sit our neighbor's westie-poo Noodle for the night. And boy, you haven't seen dogs play until you see Bosco and Noodle go at it. These guys played their little hearts out, even as we made an attempt to entertain guests for the bbq.
About an hour into the rough and tumble, as Noodle began to tire of Bosco's pushy attitude, the girlfriend had an amazing idea to put the two together in the same crate. Bosco, finally having Noodle in a confined space, jumped at the opportunity and mounted his jailbait, teaching Noodle a little lesson in soap retention. Things were all groovy following Bosco's cigarette, and the two coexisted peacefully for the rest of the night.
Oh the joys of being a puppy owner...
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