Curly Straight

I remember what it is like to go for a nice relaxing walk. I love to take in the colors, the sounds, the sights and just enjoy feeling my body move. Sometimes I would walk with a boyfriend and we would hold hands and talk and talk.

Now with my new family of two dogs and a two-year-old boy, it's not so much relaxing.

It's not bad with just the stroller and the boy. I talk to him in Mom Voice and let him know what's around. Trees and the road and the sky and cars and grass and clouds and runners and walkers.

With the two dogs and the stroller, it's a nightmare. I can't talk to T, because here is what I sound like:
Heel. Heel. Georgia. Heel. Heel. (Louder now and more menancing) Georgia. Heel. GEORGIA (Getting kind of screechy now) Heel, Georgia, dammit!!! Heel.

Oh. And heel.

Georgia? Heel.

Heel. Heel. Heel. Heel. Heel. Heel. Heel. Heel. Heel.

No talking to the boy, no enjoying the scenery, just saying again and again "Heel."

Heel.

Ever since Juyaya has arrived, Amadeus has taken to walking around with one of John's socks in his mouth.

Amadeus just walked into the basement carrying a pair of Julia's pink socks in his mouth.

I find it somewhat hilarious that there is a squirrel that loves to hang out on the top of the dog pen fence.

I'm pretty sure she is taunting Georgia, the Hater of All Things Squirrel.

We have tried many methods to train The Rottens.

Books, trainers, boot camp.

One book we bought was entitled "Every Dog Needs Some Training" - we no longer have that book, because Georgia ate it.

Gigi is in the habit of ignoring the big, round, comfy dog bed we have for her, conveniently located under the bedroom windows.

She much prefers squishing herself under the bed.

Sometimes just her tail will stick out, sometimes her back paws.

It's quite comical, really.

The dogs are starting to listen to TJ when he gives them commands.

I am trying to teach him to use a low voice and not to yell at them and to praise them if they do what he says.

It's working somewhat.

He just told Georgia to lay down and she did it.

Georgia just gnawed completely through one of Julia's teething rings.

Last night John came home late. I was hanging out downstairs reading. Amadeus, of course, was right by my side.

Our doorbell is broken, but we usually don't need it because the dogs are our doorbell.

Suddenly, Amadeus looks at me, and BOOKS ASS to the door, barking. Georgia not far behind.

I had stupidly left the door wide open. A man is standing there. Dogs are going nuts, bow wow wow WOW, wooof woof woof woof!! I'm kind of freaking out, because I wonder why someone is at my door at 9 p.m.

Took me a few minutes to figure it out, but it's our plumber. He had accidentally deleted my phone number and needed to coordinate a time for some work and had decided to stop by after finishing a job in our neighborhood.

I told the dogs to sit. They reluctantly sat. They behaved while I stood outside and talked to him.

My heart was still beating fast almost an hour later.

I'm definitely reducing their rent.

The sign for bird is the thumb and the first two fingers up to your mouth to make it look like a beak.

Julia has added her own twist to it, when she sees - or hears - a bird, she takes her fingers like that, but backwards and rolls them over her mouth, while babbling - blaalalahabbllllablla.

I have always loved dogs. I was so excited when I got Amadeus to go for walks and to go running and to have a nice mellow dog that would protect me if needed, but could still be pretty chill and hang at parties without causing a scene. I know that getting a dog from the pound is a shaky bet, you don't know what you are getting into...

Amadeus was definitely beaten. It still freaks him out to this day if someone makes a sudden move. It's sad, it really makes me question how someone can hit a 6-month-old puppy. I got him a few months before John got Georgia, although none of us knew each other yet.

Georgia faked out John. She sat there, as quiet as can be, tricking him into thinking that she was a mellow dog. Once he brought her back to his apartment, she started running laps around the entire place, one million miles an hour.

The Rottens both attended obedience school as puppies. Separately.

Didn't work.

They are spastic, energetic dogs. Especially Georgia. That dog. Ugh.

When John and I found out that I was pregnant with TJ, we hired a trainer to come in once a week so we could ensure that we were doing all we could to keep our new baby safe.

All I remember from him is that he used a clicker that made a noise and that was the positive reinforcement. Wait, now that I think about it, he would actually give them a treat when he clicked it. He also said "good, good, good, good, good, good, good" a lot.

We even took notes.

Didn't work.

At some point we found out about sending them to Boot Camp. For a lot of money, they go to a training camp for two weeks and they use the shock collars. I remember struggling with it, is it inhumane? Is it crazy to spend so much money on the dogs? John felt the shock collar on his arm, he said it wasn't bad. So off they went. It was a nice two weeks.

It sort of worked, especially before one of the collars broke. We weren't the best at using the collars all the time and we got kind of lax with the training when Julia was born.

They are still super crazy when people come over or when someone knocks on the door or when we are going to take them for a walk (which we do not do enough). Amadeus does 360s in the air, howling and Georgia races from one end of the yard to the other. This lasts for about three full minutes. It's a long three minutes.

So, we have a new trainer/dog walker in our lives. She starts on Friday. She tells me I need to give Georgia a chance.

Let's see.

Julia just yells out "no!" when she sees the dogs. I'm sure that what she mostly hears me say to them.

Georgia sleeps in in the mornings, hours longer than the rest of us.

She slowly strolls downstairs, and if she could, she would be scratching her gray beard saying "gimme a cup of coffee."

We have a make believe little boy that we talk about often. His name is Jimmy McTimble and he is a menace. He does everything wrong and nothing right.
His Momma is mean and so is he. He spits on the ground. He doesn't brush his teeth.He goes for weeks without a bath or cutting his toenails. He never cleans his room. He says swear words. He pushes his sister. He never makes his bed. This kid is trouble.

The other day TJ and I were talking about Georgia.

TJ: No one would even want her if we sold her away.

Mama: I know! Who would want that rotten dog anyway?

TJ, eyes lighting up: Jimmy McTimble?

I just love it so much when I come home to find that the Rottens have gotten into the trash.

It's especially fun when there are diapers and coffee grounds involved.