Here he is, doing his usual thing in crowding out Bailey from her previously owned space.
It has been interesting, to say the least, bringing another dog into the house. Bailey still isn't quite sure what to think of him and her patience has dropped quite a bit on everything. Also, we have had quite a few problems with Mac. First off, the first few days he was here, he had Kennel Cough, so that was the first visit to the vet. He also had problems with uncontrollable number 2. So he was put on medicine and a strict rice-hamburger diet. Once that ran out, we fed him some hard food again and the number 2 problems came back. That was a week ago and he is still having problems. Vet visit #2 came around last Thursday and he got some more medicine. I didn't know this, but apparently you can fill pet med prescriptions at Walgreens. So now, McLovin Smalls Schneider is in their database. Just so he doesn't go and buy any Sudafed and get on a government Meth list!
The last few days he has really been trying our patience. We have had to clean out his cage 3 times and give him baths. Bailey is a busy couple's dream. She needs at most 2 walks a day, hangs out all day outside of the cage watching out the window and has no accidents. Mac can't go 3 hours without leaving some evidence somewhere. So we're getting the point where we may take him back because we can't give him the kind of attention he apparently requires. 6-7 walks a day 2 hours apart.
As for the title to this post, it's an homage to one of the funniest stories that my Grandpa Vic has ever told us. Grandpa is tireless and is always up to something. He can't sit still. Sometimes I wonder if Sheila is his real granddaughter and I came from someone else because she is like that and I am pretty much the opposite!
So to recap the story, way back many years ago when my Grandpa was working at Armour's, one of his coworkers was trying to get rid of a big mean dog and a big matching doghouse. Apparently the dog had a mean streak and the guy's neighbors were done with it so he had to get rid of it. So, my Grandpa, living on the farm thought having a dog out there might be nice, and a good large sturdy doghouse would look good on the property as well. He got the dog and the doghouse chained to the pickup and drove them out to the farm.
Well, when they tried to get the dog down, it started growling and barking and was extremely agitated to have been moved from the city to the farm. My Grandpa wasn't about to let the dog loose and have it attack him or my uncle so he says to Rick, "Get the gun." You can fill in the blanks from here, and that doghouse sure made a great house for all the farm cats that lived out there from then on!
So I guess for a few days/weeks he was trying to avoid the dog's previous owner, but one day they met up and the exchange went something like this:
"So, how's that dog doing?"
"Well, not too good."
"Why, what's wrong?"
"Well... I shot him."
"YOU WHAT?!?!?!?!?!"
To get the full effect of this exchange you have to hear it straight from grandpa, but suffice to say, when he tells that story, we nearly fall off of our chairs every single time, even though we know the punch line.
So, in dealing with our little Mac, I must be honest, we have actually brought up Grandpa's method of getting rid of a problem dog, but rest assured we won't go that route! But we may be cutting our losses and sending him back for someone else to adopt.
We'll be up in SD next week for cousin Scott's wedding and we may or may not have a second dog in tow, you'll have to wait and see!
