Subourbon Mom

We have a house full of cats, (by that I mean we have three, which makes any house smell like there’s a cat hoarding situation going on – call Animal Planet),  and I’m not a fan. Hubby and the Daughters each have a cat that loves them – I am merely the House Staff that is tolerated. I have been relegated to taking care of Larry The Fish – who, let’s face it,  isn’t exactly stimulating company.

I wanted a dog.

So our latest acquisition, quickly falling under the “What were we thinking?” category, is our new “free” dog, Lily. Lily is a rescue, and she’s everything I said I didn’t want when we first decided to get a dog: she’s a puppy, not housebroken, and high-energy. I’ve since been informed that what I really wanted was a housebroken sloth.

We’re pretty sure Lily’s never been in a house before, walked on a leash, or hung out with people…ever. She’s terrified of just about everything except other dogs. In the 3 weeks we’ve had her she’s run away 3 times, decided that pooping inside is preferable to standing in the cold by the woodpile, and will only walk through the front door.

But we love her.

Ok, I love her. The rest of the jury is still out.

Which is why I found myself standing in the dog toy aisle in Wal-Mart, looking for something Lily might like to play with to get her mind off the Scary Box That Talks (the t.v.), the Scary Smaller Box That Talks (the radio), the Mean Cats, Scary Couch, Scary Pillows, Scary Kitchen, Scary Bathroom, etc. I’m a pretty firm believer that the same parental coping strategies can apply to dogs as to children – give them something to keep them busy so you can do the things you need to do.

So for the same reason I gave my kids questionable Mac-n-Cheese and off-brand Cheerios when they were little (they don’t know the difference and I’m cleaning up their poop anyway), I decided to go the cheap route and visit my local big-box store to get Lily some toys.

I stood in awe, looking at the range of wild animals and Muppet-like things that squeak, crackle, crinkle and smell like peanut butter. Some even looked disturbingly like sex toys. (My co-worker’s dag actually has this one, but she assures me it doesn’t come with batteries.)  None of them were under $3.00, and none of them are any kind of off-brand, that I could tell. Um…just to be clear, this is something I’m buying for my dog to shake and chew on, right? What happened to just having your dog pull on an old sock?

So there I was, squeezing every toy like a toddler in one of those saucer things parents use to keep their child occupied while Mommy drinks her wine. I was obsessed. I couldn’t stop making those toys squeak and crackle over and over again, sending loud, annoying, fake mouse shrieks up and down the Pet section, and into Lighting and Paint. It was like scratching an itch – it was wrong, but it felt ooooh, soooo right.

In the end, I opted for a raccoon, a blue elephant and something that looks like a rat crossed with a parrot. Two days later, raccoon stuffing littered the dining room, and the elephant’s ear has gone missing – I’m pretty sure Lily ate it. I’m looking forward to seeing that on the dining room floor tomorrow morning.

But somehow Lily managed to worm her way quickly into my heart, and the Fam’s too.  She always manages to redeem herself by putting herself in her crate when she’s been “bad”, or lying next to us (only slightly under duress) on the couch while we watch the Scary Box That Talks.  But the next toy I buy will be a toy in the shape of a cat, with life-like meows…or I could go high-end, and just let her chase our actual cats.

Who’s the Staff now, little kitties?

(maniacal laughter fading….)