I’m a terrible animal guardian and I’m going straight to hell. I’ll tell you why…
My animals have their routine down-pat before calling it a night. I say, “Okay, time to go night-night.” The word ‘okay’ prompts all 4 mutts to jump from their coveted positions. I open the patio door and they file outside to do their business one last time. Fortunately it stopped raining last night so I didn’t have to coax anyone out. And by anyone I mean Wally. As you now know, he’s my problem child.
I block the French doors with my foot so my cats don’t make a beeline outside. Nellie heads for the top of the property looking for fresh poop to eat. No doubt she was out of luck last night since it rained for days, so my guess is her nightly snack was inedible mush. I apologize for the gross description, but remember, I have it worse. I’m the one forced to watch Nellie attempt to dislodge the poop stuck on her back molars. It’s hideous.
My poop eater
So my friend Annette and I decided to take our mutts to the beach for a day of frolicking in the sand, surf and sun. I only took 2 of my 4 monsters because Nellie’s old and might not make it out of the car before needing a nap and Callie is fear aggressive, an affliction which doesn’t translate well around people. Or other dogs. Or pretty much anything that moves. So Skip, Wally and I joined Annette and her perfectly behaved German Shepard, Tess.
Let me just say there must be something wrong with me because my mutts have issues. I prefer to think they’re just flawed little creatures who zeroed in on my inclination for adopting not-so-perfect beings. Either that or I’m a crappy guardian.
Nellie, however, is nearly perfect. Emphasis on nearly. She does have a tendency to use table corners as appetizers so that’s a check in the flawed box. Good luck finding a piece of wooden furniture in my home lacking her teeth impressions.
Nellie’s favorite pastime