Changes

The Birthday Boy!

Happy birthday to my bff Mecki who turned three years old today! I can't wait for your mom to come back to work so she can deliver the presents I got you (I wanted to slobber on them so that you’d know they were from me, but Sister assured me that you’d know because my name was on the card)!

And now, on to my post:

Some changes are good: An empty dinner bowl, for instance, changing into a full dinner bowl or a worn out marrow bone being replaced by a brand new one. Other changes are bad. One can only hope that one comes across more of the former rather than latter.  Lately, however, I have not had much luck in this area. I endured three very disturbing events in one single day a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve only just regained my composure enough to blog about them.

The Rug:

Never underestimate the power of a nice smelling rug. I mean, talk about comfort; there’s the smell of unwashed dog, cookie pieces, not to mention years of dirt that was tracked in on shoes and paws alike. One such rug is the one in Ma and Pa’s room. But that changed a couple of weeks ago when Pa lugged up from the basement a machine that looked, and sounded, a lot like a vacuum cleaner on steroids: it was the rug cleaner. Now, I would be amiss if I did not emphasize that I did my best to protect my rug. I sprawled out in the middle of it and, even when the rug cleaner got a little too close for comfort and I had to abandon my post, I regrouped in a different area and prepared for the next assault. Sadly, however, despite my brave efforts, Pa’s mission was set and eventually I had to admit that I was no match for him and his noisy rug cleaner.

The Couch:

So there I was, lounging in the living room, mourning the loss of my smelly rug, when Ma and Pa walked in armed with an obvious purpose and a couple of hand tools. Shocked beyond belief, I watch as Ma and Pa systematically tore apart the couch and armchair.

Now, that couch and I have had a long history together. I have spent many an hour curled up on it even though Pa had made it perfectly clear that I was not supposed to sleep there (Ma and Sister always pretended not to notice me when I climbed up to take a nap). And on multiple occasions I had managed to physically muscle Ma and Sister out of the armchair so that I could snooze comfortably (which was not an easy task…Ma and Sister really didn’t want to give up their spot to me). Then, there were those fun filled encounters with Pa where I’d jump up on the couch, watch as Pa would get up from his armchair to shoo me off, quickly jump off the couch, and then race Pa back to the chair he just vacated (which was nice and warm…what else could a dog want?).

The Other Rug:

But Ma and Pa’s blood lust was not quenched by the cleaning of the bedroom rug or the destruction of the living room furniture. No, they needed more, and as soon as the couch was at the curb, they returned to roll up the living room rug and drag it out to the curb as well. 

No dog should endure what I have endured. There is a void in my life now. I have no living room rug to drag my snout upon after eating and now no one will allow me to snooze on the new sofa. And the bedroom rug, well, it’s finally starting to smell right again, but once it does, what’s to stop Pa from cleaning it again?