I’ve been living with a bitch in my house for three years now. Don’t think she was loved from day one. When she first arrived, she was very much unwelcome. She was nameless, taken away from her family, bought for a price. We had no choice but to take her in after she showed up on our doorstep.
She was such a burden. She showed no concern for how things went about in the house, just making a mess everywhere. She was selfish, eating up a whole pack of star peanuts given to me without even asking permission. She’d steal chicken drumsticks on the dining table and sneak around to try and get a bite of the fruits I was eating. She left tissue rolls ripped, more than a dozen slippers ruined, and food finished all for herself. Soon enough, our furniture were also disintegrating. The only way she thinks she can cover up her mistakes is by looking at us with beady eyes. Well it doesn’t work all the time–it works most of the time. Later on, we learned that she only needed attention and a very repetitive heart-to-heart conversation to make her understand how things work around.
We could have chosen a much less cheesy name for a dog, but when you get your first pet the instinct is to name it after something sweet, or at least after pleasant-sounding food, especially if it’s a female. We couldn’t let her walk around without a name for long, so it was settled with a colorful candy to call a furry white dog.
Being a smart breed, training wasn’t a big trouble, except for the pottying part, which I haven’t straightened out until now. All I needed were some biscuits, meat jerky and the patience to teach her how to sit, stay, fetch, go up, go down, eat, and to move over when someone exclaims “excuse me.”
What I love and hate
What I hate: Fur all over the house. I had to buy a lint roller when I realized how silly I look when I’m trying to get rid of the fur sticking to my black shirts one by one.
What I love: When Skittles gallops like a wild horse when I step into the house or when we meet first thing in the morning.
It’s fun having a furball hang around.
Note: I wrote this a few years back, I don’t know why I never published this. Our baby is turning seven in a few months!