September 26, 2009

Pupdate: Where is she?

"Where is she?" This phrase is very important in our house.

For our two boxers, Bubba and Murray, it means Mommy is somewhere in the house, and it's their sworn duty to find her bad happens? I'm sucked into an alternate universe? Attacked by marauding gypsies?

Who knows what goes on in their tiny (albeit loving and loyal) minds?

When I get home from work, my husband T. hides the dogs in our bedroom while I hide. Then he gets them all in a froth by asking them, "Where is she? Where is she?" This whips them (particularly Murray, who is a total mama's boy) into a FRENZY of jumping and freaking out, because somehow they know this means, "Mommy's home, and it's our sworn duty to find her IMMEDIATELY."

Once I'm hidden, T. releases the hounds, as it were, and there is much galloping, even more whining and audible groans of frustration (again: Murray) as they attempt to find me.

This may be a good time to mention that our dogs are not the smartest. I mean, listen: They're cute. They're ADORABLE. And I love them. I would probably take a bullet for either one of them, and I'm not even exaggerating. They're family. But they aren't going to be herding sheep or competing in agility courses anytime soon, if you know what I mean.

(This is probably also a good time to mention that both dogs shall I say this as to not hurt their sensitive canine sensibilities...chunky. OK, they're both fat. I readily admit that this is our fault, not theirs. We share our food with them from time to time, and we don't take them out to really run around as much as we should. We're trying to remedy the latter, but, as it turns out, dogs are much like people -- if they're used to sitting around, sleeping and being lazy, it's really, REALLY hard to convince them that running around outside after a ball is a good idea. You don't see a lot of people on The Biggest Loser who are fresh off an NBA career. I'm just saying.)

Anyway: Our dogs = not so smart. At least not when it comes down to figuring out where their mommy has hidden in their relatively small living environment. I mean, #1, there are only so many places you can hide a person-sized object in our house. And #2, THEY'RE DOGS. Aren't they supposed to have a fantastic sense of smell? I am the person they smell the second-most often!

So I spend a lot of time waiting behind doors, in closets and under sheets and blankets, listening to them gallop and whine and get progressively more frenzied trying (and failing) to find me. I won't pretend this isn't hilarious; there's a reason this is our favorite pastime. But seriously: Once I was just STANDING IN A CORNER facing away from them. Just standing there. Not covered by anything. And they still couldn't find me until T. practically took their faces and pointed them toward my back.

But when they finally do find me...I'll be honest. It's simultaenously hysterically funny, endearing...and mortally terrifying.

This is primarily because Murray weighs upward of 120 pounds. And he isn't shy about throwing those 120 pounds around with wild abandon if it means he can get closer to my face, the better to shower me with smooches while knocking my lights out. The dog has a giant head, is what I'm saying. And he knows how to use it to knock anything aside (furniture, body parts, etc.) he sees as a roadblock to my face. Sometimes he just head-butts me into submission to make it easier to climb onto my lap (remember: 120 pounds), pin me down and smooch me with abandon.

Bottom line: The dogs are chunks and not so bright. But man, do they love us. :)

1 backtalk:

Kendra said...

LOL!!! I read this out loud to K and we loved it!

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