Spaniels... Little Monsters in Training

It seems I have made a mistake. If you've read any of the previous posts on my blog, you would think I "saved" an innocent, cute, stray spaniel -- aka, fuzzy, black dog number three -- running loose in the wild. Not so. To the contrary, it seems I have acquired a four-legged monster. Bob is not really a dog. Instead, he is a fuzzy, black chipper and shredder that eats anything and everything he can get into his mouth. Perhaps he's part goat.

He was so meek and mild when he first came into the house. We had to be extra careful around him since fast movements and loud noises seemed to make him skittish. They still do, but he seems to be learning to adjust to sudden outbursts of "where's my sandwich" and "who ate the remote control??!!" He often finds and greets me with his trademark cute smile and eyebrows that alternately rise and fall.

He's learned to scour the house for anything left behind by my son. To date, he's eaten four boxes of cereal that haven't been returned to the proper cereal holding spot. He started into a plate of spaghetti on the dining room table once. He managed to acquire a sandwich from my hand once. I caught Bob trying to steal a raw steak on the counter that was to be grilled. Luckily, I managed to head that one off at the pass.

First it was just food. Then he began to show his true colors one day when I discovered only two small pieces of the remote control. To this day, we still haven't found the rest of that device.

Since then, Bob has expanded into other non-edible items. Here is but a brief list of items that have either disappeared or shown up in pieces: a school bag handle, the side of that same school bag two weeks after being fixed, a box of Gas-Ex, two lunchboxes, numerous plastic pens and mechanical pencils and  markers, one of my good cooking spoons and a long black string or shoelace. Please, don't ask how I know about the string...

There was one attempt on a cell phone, but my son managed to save it before any damage occurred!

I've asked the local pet supply store if they carry titanium muzzles for dogs. He laughed at me. I explained that anything less would be chewed through faster than a Ferrari on the Autobahn.

In the meantime, I'm performing searches on the internet for honest-to-goodness monster tamers. If anyone knows of any, please pass their name and number along before my computer gets

Fuzzy Black Dogs Take Over

Don't let the cuteness fool you...

The fuzzy, black dog count in my little house has grown. In addition to Ace (the Jack Russell, schnauzer and poodle mix on the left at top) and Lilly (the schnauzer, yorkie mix which people like to shorten to schnorkie--on the right at top), we now have Bob, who for all practical appearances seems to be an American Water Spaniel. Unfortunately, Bob (who has really been named Bob Barker) seems to have created friction in out little household as to how we should proceed.

A friend of mine found him and another spaniel running around by the side of a road. Neither dog had a collar, so she did what she always does. Having an overly large heart and a soft spot for stray dogs, she managed to subdue the dogs and bring them home. She is currently trying to find a good home for only one dog. And therein lies the problem.

My theory contends that Bob was abused. His behavior seems to verify this theory. My theory also states that we, my family, are but a mere halfway house -- half way between a rough, rotten life and a new happy one with a family to love him. My solution is simply to find a happy home for the adorable little pup.

My son also has a theory. His theory states that when the dogs outnumber the family members, then we have a serious problem. Unfortunately, according to his theory, we don't have a problem yet since Bob puts the number of animals even with the number of humans. If you've ever tried reasoning with a teenager, you'll find it's easier to hit your head against a wall.

My wife has developed her own theory which can be summed up in four simple words -- &%*! out of luck! She says that we are just fuzzy, black dog magnets. She's also noted that our teenager and Bob have, in less than 24 hours, become inseperable. And it's becoming obvious when they have been seperated as a low, mournful howl begins echoing through the house...