Paws of Fury

I recently had some fairly substantial dental work done and just didn't have it in me to go into the office. So instead, I left the dentist chair, drove home and settled back into bed to revel in my valium induced fog (prescribed by the dentist of course). I awoke to raindrops slamming onto the concrete of my driveway below my bedroom window. I also awoke to four pounds of furry fury staring me in the face. This bestial alarm clock has a name and that name is Jeffrey. The little dude was ramming his paw into my eye like a piston to let me know he had to go outside.

I need you to understand how monumental this moment is for me. At this point, Jeffrey was around six months old. We got him once our last little Pomeranian Pee Wee passed (respect). Jeffrey has what we refer to as a little bit of a self-control problem. He pees and poos on rugs, carpets, tile, brick, wood, fabric, sheets, comforters, pillows, discarded underwear, our other dog OD, and my stomach in the middle of one unfortunate night. Basically if it's inside, he'll go to the bathroom on it. When you take him outside, he goes and sits in the grass and stares at you until you open the door again so he can run inside and go number two. I've tried to wait the little bastard out. I waited an hour and a half once but he wins every time. He's like that deer in the staring contest with Will Ferrell as Robert Goulet on Saturday Night Live (please look this up if you have not seen it).

I mention all of this to say I was stoked when he woke me up acting like he wanted to go outside. I stumble down the stairs with him under my arm. I wish I could explain to you how manly I look walking around with a four pound Pomeranian tucked under my arm. We get to the backyard and I drop him and prepare to behold the maturation of Jeffrey before my eyes. However this glorious moment is ruined by two kids running and playing by the little pond outside my little four foot picket fence. Jeffrey forgets about his responsibilities and starts running toward the fence. Since this is a picket fence and Jeffrey is the size of a rat, he runs full speed through a space between two of the boards and takes off barking at the kids.

One of these little guys sees Jeffrey and freaks. The dog looks like a little pygmy lion and if I were six years old, I would probably freak out too. He takes off running away from Jeffrey which just infuses the dog with more of a purpose and he starts barking louder and running faster. I hop the fence running after Jeffrey and yelling at the kid to stop. Now if you're one of my neighbors (most of which are parents) looking out of your window, all you see is a small child scared to death running away from an angry grown up who is chasing after him and yelling at him to stop. Jeffrey is so small and close to the ground that he is more or less invisible. This is not a good situation for me. Eventually, the kid relented and I caught up to them. I hip checked Jeffrey into another neighbor's fence and kind of put him in a choke hold because he's a wily devil and I could not let him get away. I look at the kid and tell him I'm sorry and then drag Jeffrey kicking and screaming (tucked under my armpit with his tongue hanging out all cute and stuff) back to my house praying to God that Chris Hansen isn't waiting in my kitchen with a television crew.

I gave Jeffrey a stern talking to while brushing his hair.  I wanted us to have a little guy time before my wife got home.  I think we came to an understanding that day and we have not had an escape sense.  There is still a lot of pee in the house though.

One step at a time.