Beau: Madame? A word please.

Me: of course, what is it?

Beau: we're all very worried about you.  For the past week, you just haven't been your usual wonderful self. You're only eating yogurt and applesauce, and you fall asleep everytime you sit down. 

Sam: you haven't hardly brushed us at all.

Smith: I've been ok with the sitting still part.  Lots' of lap time.

Wesson: me too.  And the extra time in bed is a bonus.

Me: I've been sick, I think it's some sort of flu.  I've had a fever and a sore throat.  

Peep: tell the truth, you have distemper don't you?  I've been afraid something like this would happen.  I worry about you all of the time.  This is my worst nightmare come to life.

Me: people don't get distemper Peep, it's just the flu.  Try to calm down.  I'll be fine.

Smith: is your rabies vaccination up to date?  What about your Parvo shot?  Both of those are contagious you know, we could all get sick hanging around with you.

Me: thanks for your concern and attention to public health Smith.  I don't have to get the same shots that you guys get, people don't get Parvo.  Granted, we can get rabies, but that's really rare and it would be more plausible for you to give me rabies than for me to give it to you.

Smith: why would you do that? Why would you give us rabies? I looked it up, there's no cure you know.  Wesson!! Pack your stuff, she's going to try to kill us!! 

Me: as usual, you're not listening.  I didn't say I was going to give you rabies.  You're overeacting.  Wesson, put the suitcases back where you found them.

Peep: can we help you feel better?  I could find some good stuff for you to roll in. 

Sam: I'd be happy to share the dead bird I found today, I only ate about half.  You can have the rest.

Wesson: I could curl up on your neck, that always makes me feel better.

Beau: I shall endeavor to shed less if you think that would help.

Smith: you know what I think would make you feel completely better?

Me: do tell

Smith: I think that if you got rid of the big ugly guy, you'd feel better right away.  Like a miracle cure.  Let's do that!

Me: somehow, I'm not surprised by your suggestion.  Where is Steve, by the way.

Beau: he's in the pond again Madame, he seems to be rather fixated.  I've attempted to talk to him about his obsessions, but I don't think I'm getting through to him.  I'm sorry, I'll try talking to him again.

Me: don't worry about it Beau, we have to pick our battles with that one.  I suppose I'll have to go and get him in a few minutes. I do want to thank all of you for your concern, it's really very sweet.  I'm actually feeling a little better and I think that in another day or so, I'll be back to normal. How about we all go and watch a little TV?  You guys go and see if there's something we can all enjoy and I'll go fish Steve out of the pond.

Smith: I'm sure I heard him say he wants to stay out there tonight. He'll be fine. C'mon and make a lap.

To: Sam and Steve

From: Fed Up Alpha

Subject: Attitude

This mutual antagonism has to stop.  I simply can't afford any more trips to the vet.  I've started thinking about making a "Go Fund Me" account to help with the expenses. Not really, but I hope you get the point about finances.  

Sam, I originally thought you were a victim, but after watching you two this weekend, I now have my doubts.  I've heard how you talk to Steve when he so much as looks at you or walks past you.  Stop talking shit.  Didn't you learn your lesson the first 3 times?  I agree that Steve isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but calling him a dummy hurts his feelings and makes him angry. And telling him that he's a "lowlife hobo rescue dog" is just plain mean.  If you recall, you're technically a rescue dog yourself; I did go and get you out of jail down in Klamath as soon as I learned that you and your siblings were being held and were on borrowed time.  In my book, that qualifies you as a rescue as well and leaves you no room to be throwing that phrase around as a way to try to knock Steve down a notch.  He's already at the bottom of the hierarchy, he can't get any lower. Regardless of who outranks whom, we are a pack, or a family if you will, and I intend to keep it that way. This week, while I'm at work and you're in (and out since I'm leaving the door open a little) of the garage, I'd like you to use your down time to write an essay about family and what it means to be a part of one.  I'll give you till Wednesday evening to get it done and handed in.

Steve, please stop trying to make Sam your friend; it's never going to happen.  I know you love everybody and everything in the world, but you have to face the fact that not everyone is going to return your affection.  Wesson is a good friend, you guys cuddle all the time.  And Peep plays with you a little, so you've got that going for you. You and I are good friends.  Who gets up an hour early to throw The Ball before work?  That would be me.  I've addressed Sam's hurful comments, and I know he'll take it to heart and stop being so mean.  What I'd like you to do is just walk away when he starts talking smack.  Ignore it.  Move on.  And if he growls and snaps at you, please refrain from going into full blown Pitbull mode.  Sam is older, slower, and just can't bite as hard as you can. I don't think you know your own strength and bite-force.  I'm pretty sure you feel bad about the damage you did.  If you don't, then you should.  Tomorrow and Tuesday, you're to work on a speech about what it means to be a good pack member. You'll be presenting it at our mid-week meeting on Wednesday.  I'm not going to have you write an essay like Sam because I know what you do to pens and pencils and paper, and I'm not certain of your ability to write anything cohesive.  I will, however, ask Peep to act as your secretary and write down your bullet points for you.  I'll be telling her to keep the paper safe, so don't even bother asking for it.

Let's see if we can all make it through what's left of the weekend without any further injury, (both physical and emotional) shall we?   

One more thing: stop sticking your tongues out at each other or there will be NO cookies for a week.

Me: Steve! It's time for dinner.  Wesson is going to eat your food if you don't get in here.  Steve? Steve!.....

Wesson: I'm done with my bowl, is it ok to start on Steve's? I'll share with Smith. Steve's outside, I don't think he'll mind.

Me: No it's not ok. You two guys need to take another look at the Obie pictures and remember what happens to Dacshunds who eat too much.

Smith: she just called you fat.

Me: I did not! I was just trying to remind you that you need to watch what you eat now that you're not chasing down ground rodents all day every day. And what do you mean Steve is outside? I let everyone in before I started getting dinner ready for you.

Beau: excuse me Madame, but I believe you neglected to close the door all of the way.  Steven probably took that as an invitation to go back outside.  

Peep: I think I hear splashing noises coming from somewhere.  I'll stand on the deck and bark about it.

Me: thank you Peep, that won't be necessary.  I'd say it's a sure bet that Steve is in the pond.  He'll realize that he's missing dinner, I'm sure he'll be back in a few minutes.

Smith to Sam: maybe he'll drown. I bet that would make you almost as happy as it would make me.

Me: I heard that.  

90 minutes later...

Me: where's the damn flashlight, I'm going to have to go out and bring him in.  Where the fuck are my shoes?

Smith: who are you talking to?

Me: myself, as usual. But thanks for asking.

10 minutes of convincing and yelling later:

Steve: did you see the magic?!!?  There wasn't any water for the longest time and now it's back! This is great!  I love water!  It's the best!  You brought The Ball!!  I love The Ball!  It's the best!!  Throw The Ball!!

Me: I'm tired and it's getting late, just get in the house.  Stand still so I can dry you off, you're shaking.  That water must be about 50 degrees, you could be hypothermic.

Smith to Sam: I've heard that hypothermia can kill, there's still hope.

Me: I heard that.

Dear Sam,

I can't express just how happy I am that you're feeling better.  I was terribly worried about you, and I still can barely look at your chest without retching a little bit, but I believe you're well on your way to recovery.  I'd like to keep it that way.

In order to be sure that you continue to recover and that you and Steve don't engage in anymore MMA while I'm away, you absolutely can't be left alone together.  I thought about putting one or the other of you in the big wire time-out crate, but then I remembered that Steve managed to rip his way out of it the first time I left him in it.  I don't expect you'd be any better at staying in there since the last time you were at the vet, they said that they had to move you into an enclosure with an acrylic door because you were trying to eat your way out of the room with the wire door. I understand they talked to you about how bad that is for your teeth. I sincerely hope you listened.  You might want to talk to The Weiners about what it's like to lose teeth; they don't have a full set between the two of them.

The best option seemed to be putting you in the garage and leaving Steve in the house.  You were perfectly happy to stay in the garage when you were in the early stages of recovery, but you've obviously had a change of heart and I'm getting the idea that the garage isn't where you want to be. Just a hunch. The amount of damage that you did to the garage door while you were trying to get out is truly impressive. You made your point.  I get it. We'll have to come up with another idea.  Or I'm going to have to just let you continue to chip away at the garage door.

I thought about just shutting you into my bedroom while I'm at work, but given what happened while I was away today, that doesn't seem to be a workable solution either.  I shudder to think about what my bedroom door would look like if you decided you'd rather not stay closed in the room. Although....interior doors don't cost nearly as much to replace as garage doors do, so I might have to think a little more about that option.

I'm willing to listen to any suggestions you might have about what I should do with you while I'm out of the house.  We can bring it up at our next meeting and see if anyone else has any good ideas.  I already know what Smith is going to suggest, so don't let your feelings be hurt by what he has to say.  

I think we'll have an early night tonight, you look pretty tired.  Not surprising really, given the amount of energy you must have expended today.  

We'll just have to see what happens tomorrow.  I can hardly wait.

xxoo,

Amazed Alpha

Smith:  Hey Alf!  Can I call you Alf?

Me:  no, you cannot.

Smith: whatever.  There's something I need to discuss with you. It's important.

Me: important to you or important to me?

Smith: you have to ask?

Me: not really, but hope does spring eternal. What is it?

Smith: I see that the gross White Dog is back from wherever it was that he went.

Me:  first, you know his name. Second, you know that Sam was in the garage recovering. And lastly, he's not gross, he's still healing.  

Smith: that mess on his chest makes him look like he was attacked by a T-Rex.  Me and Wesson offered to lick it for him since he can't reach it, but he won't let us.  If he's going to bring his nasty self inside the least he can do is share the wealth, there's lots of good goo there.

Me: the correct grammar is "Wesson and I", and I don't think it's necessary to lick everything on everyone all of the time.  Your obsession with licking is as bad as Steve's obsession with The Ball. 

Smith: WHAT?!?! I'm not like Steve at all!! There's about a billion ways we're different. He's ugly, I'm cute. He's stupid, I'm very intelligent. He's unemployed, I have a job. I'm popular, nobody likes him.  He farts all the time, I don't. OK, I fart a little, but mine don't peel paint like Steve's do. I hate him.

Me: I'm going to ignore most of that. You have a job?

Smith: I actually have 2:  I'm the Official Ear Cleaner, remember?  And I'm also the Administrator of your lap.

Me: of course, how could I have forgotten? You're very dedicated to your ear career, that's commendable. But there is no lap administrator position; I'm the only one who decides who sits on my lap. 

Smith: you're entitled to your opinion about that.

Me to myself: how do I get sucked into these discussions? 

Me: what exactly was it that was so important that you wanted to talk to me about.

Smith:...........I forgot.  Can I have a cookie?

Me: we're done here.