One upon a time there was a beautiful dog. She lived in a house with a woman, three children and a bulldog. The bulldog’s name was Ug (I am pretty sure this is true, but I also could have made it up) and the beautiful dog was named Daisy. The woman decided that she didn’t have time for Daisy anymore (but apparently still had time for Ug), so she made plans to get rid of Daisy while she was on vacation. She passed off Daisy to a friend of her father, Terry, who Keith’s mom worked with. We got an email asking if we were interested in a 3 year old golden retriever. Of course we were! Then it got changed to a 5 year old. Of course! No, not a golden retriever, a lab. Sure! (We later were told by a vet that Daisy was closer to 8 than 5, but whatever.)
We went to Terry’s house to meet Daisy and fell in love immediately. We made plans to come back 2 days later to pick her up, giving us time to buy everything we needed. When we picked Daisy up, Terry’s wife cried and we lived happily ever after.
Aside from the first two weeks that we’ve had Daisy, she hasn’t been crated, but rather lives as a wild dog. She is a pretty perfect dog, she doesn’t chew or eat things and she didn’t have an accident for a good 2 years and I think up until this summer she had only had 2-3 total. She also was on an amazing schedule of going out around 9pm and then not again until morning.
All this changed last summer. For about a year now, she has woken me up almost every single night to go outside. Which yes, I would much rather her wake me than have an accident, but wake Keith! Instead, she comes to my side of the bed and either a) makes the most irritating groan/grunt/whine sound known to man b) licks my face if she can reach it c) if all else fails, jumps up on me.
The past few nights she has woken me up literally 45 minutes after I had fallen asleep and I was so annoyed I threatened to leave her outside. I didn’t mean it, Daisy, I swear.
The most irritating part is that I wake up, come downstairs, let her out, hook up her lead…and then she just stands there. Staring off into the night.
Girl, if you wake me up from a dead sleep to pee, you better RUN out into that yard and pee. Instead she’ll stare up into the sky, sniff around a little until I finally growl, “Daisy, go!” Then she’ll run out and pee. Or run out, pee, and then stop dead in her tracks and stare. Which freaks me the hell out. It’s pitch black back there*. Sometimes she will bark and that chills me to the bone. Is it a deer? A white walker? A serial killer?
Other times, she’ll come back and then stare out to the road and her hair will all bristle up, okay that is definitely a serial killer out there.
So then I have the fun game of grabbing her, unhooking her, running inside and locking the door before I get murdered.
And then I have to go upstairs and try to fall back asleep with my heart pounding out of my chest.
I told Keith I was going to train her to pee in the bathtub and he said that was disgusting, but hey, mama needs her beauty sleep.
*There is a man installing a motion sensing flood light as I type this. I might still get killed by a white walker, but at least I’ll see it coming!