March 15, 2003 :: 9:44 p.m.
this dog was made for you and meeee
Dog. We have a dog. Buddy didn't come for a visit, he came for a stay. Right now he's in his crate, and has very thankfully stopped whining about it. Mostly. He can't run around the house yet, you see, because the cats are terrified and traumatized and hiding in various places upstairs. And since we don't have anything to block off the stairs with, he must be in the crate for a bit. Because otherwise he would head straight upstairs and sniff the cats and they would run and he would chase them and all hell would once again break loose. All four of them were huddled in my room earlier, so united by their fear of this hulking invader that their mutual dislike for each other was, for a time, forgotten. I feel bad that he has to be in the crate, but honestly, it's not a bad crate. It's big and roomy and when we took him to SuperPetz tonight, we bought him a big fleecy pillow for it. We also got him four bags of assorted treats, a big bag of food, a harness (for walks), and a retractable leash thingy. The harness and leash make walking him around MUCH less trying, as he is a large dog and much stronger than he looks. He can pull me around like rag doll, and I'm far from being any kind of lightweight. And if I do say so myself, which I do, he looks very stately and handsome in his blue harness.
Once he gets some extra obedience training and stops chasing the cats, he'll be all set. Granted, he only chases them if they run from him, but they always run from him. So he always chases them. This is bad. Rufus is handling it the best out of all of them, which I totally expected. When Buddy (the dog) first got here, Rufus was sitting on the windowsill. All the other cats flew upstairs to escape, but Rufus just sat there and growled a little bit, hissed when the dog got too close, and otherwise ignored him. After we came home from SuperPetz, though, Buddy sort of charged at Rufus, which sent him running for the hills. Running for my bedroom, rather. At one point, the dog got away from my mom and chased Tango and Giles up into my room, also. They were hissing and spitting and their hair was standing on end and stuff. It was not pleasant. I think Gizmo took one look at him and passed out.
So the dog is in his crate now. He's so pretty - I'll put a picture up as soon as I can get one. He got a bath before he came over this afternoon, so now he's all shiny and clean and not smelling so much like dog. He's stylin', yo. Adam came over for a little bit, and we harnessed Buddy up and took him for a walk. He left really soon after, though (Adam, not the dog), which made me very sad. But he wasn't feeling well, so hopefully he went home and drank some juice and laid down and relaxed. We're going to head back to school at some point in the early afternoon tomorrow, and as such, I'm willing to pay a healthy sum for an assassination. Of me. Seriously, kill me. I'll get the money somehow.
Dog is whining again. I wish I could let him out. My mom is going to come down in a bit and take him out for a walk, but I feel bad. I wish he could run free through the house and sleep on my bed. But then we'd have hissing, spitting cats tearing through the house, which would certainly be of the bad. Alas.
I'm not tired at all, but I have nothing to do but sleep. I'm very, very bored. I want to go to the grocery store and stock up on shampoo and stuff while I'm within the sphere of my parents' money bubble, but I don't want to go alone. I was going to see if I Adam wanted to go, but since he took off so soon it wasn't really an option. I should work on homework. I should pack stuff for tomorrow. I should do lots of things, but 10 to 1, I won't. Because, as stated several times before, I DO NOT CARE ANYMORE. But I'll be up on Monday night, scrambling to get it all done. As much as I really don't care, I don't think I could ever not do the stuff. I'm just stricken with a deep sense of unfounded academic duty that way. Dammit.
Anyway... I have to go amuse myself somehow. Gah.
back & forth
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