We all have our quirks and endearing qualities that help make us well- rounded individuals. For instance, one of my quirks is if I see something on the floor that one of my pets dragged in from the yard, even the tiniest twig, I have to stop and pick it up. No pretending it’s not there. So with 10 pets, my quirkiness is a daily occurrence inside my home. An endearing quality of mine? I’d say…

Turns out pets also have certain idiosyncrasies, as you well know if you have pets. I happen to find their quirks are much quirkier and their endearing qualities, well…downright endearing. Take Skip, my oldest mutt. He has so many quirks I could fill this entire post with them and still need a Chapter 2.

You all know about his aversion to going up or down just 1 single stair (through the dog door, or into the house, or into the garage). It ain’t gonna happen. But the weirdo has no issue dashing up and down 13 stairs (if you could call a Corgi mix a dasher). Go figure. But Skip’s latest quirk is when I let him into the backyard around 6 a.m. to pee, he goes on a walkabout. If he weren’t part Corgi I’d swear he’s part Aussie.

At this point I’m dead tired since I’m usually not in bed before 2:00 a.m., yet Skip saunters around the yard completely oblivious to my evident exhaustion. Taffy and Wally join him most mornings but do their business quickly then head back up to bed like thoughtful pets do. But not Skipper.

Considering this is the time of morning when most people are still snoozing comfortably in a warm bed, I call Skip numerous times in the quietest voice so as not to wake my neighbors. He pretends he doesn’t hear me and in that prancing gait of his, heads to the second level of the yard. That’s when I know I’m screwed.

I head into the kitchen to put dishes into the dishwasher or go into the garage to see if I still have those disgusting slugs slithering in there. If I find one, I grab a paper towel, scoop it up, then deposit it somewhere in the yard where I’m guessing it eventually makes its way back inside.

After all that, there’s still no Skip waiting at the back door. He rarely is. So, standing at the dining room table, I lean over from the waist, lay my head down, close my eyes, and hope I don’t fall asleep. After a couple more minutes, I call Skip again. But when I now spot him up on the third level, I figure I’m doomed to get little sleep.

Sometimes I head back upstairs. After scooting 4-5 animals from my side of the bed, I crawl back in until I hear Skip scratching at the door. I’m a light sleeper so I always hear him. To teach him a lesson, I take my sweet time getting downstairs. But that hasn’t worked. Most early mornings he still goes on a walkabout. I’m waiting (not so patiently) for this phase to pass.

Now don’t get me wrong; I fully intended to include Skip’s endearing qualities in this post. But as you can see, I’ve used my 600 words griping about just a couple of his quirks. Expect his qualities to appear in a future posting along with my other pets’ idiosyncrasies.

Fair warning: Those posts are likely to be top-heavy with quirks.