FLB

OK, I'm not gonna lie to you. Moose is a furry little bastard. I say this in the best way possible, mind. Really, I love my puppy, and I think he adds a lot to my life. Namely, he forces me to get off of my duff and walk for at least two hours a day (read: work off the beer gut I have developed sitting around London with no job and a very close, very yummy local pub). But when it really comes down to it Moose really is as I described. Furry. Little. Bastard.

The first time I came to this conclusion was about two weeks ago when Moose peed on the floor five times and pooped on it twice. And not all on the wood floor, either. The dog knows perfectly well that we would prefer him to adjourn his bodily excretions to the outdoors and yet he does it inside on occasion. It's not to spite us, I think, but rather just to exercise a little bit of independence and power. He is not a dominant creature, you see, but has a glint of adventure in his eyes...

The second time I really noticed the FLB in him was when he got thoroughly muddy in the park (OH, he is super excited about water in the park!) and then proceeded to bite, claw and bark his way out of the bathtub, to the extent that our carpeted bathroom was like a pool and my arms were scratched like a chicken coop. Bastard!

And then there was this evening. Oh yes, the FLB knows how to make a stressful evening that much better. I shall set the scene. This evening Matthew's uncle was scheduled to visit. I have known this all week but I held off on cleaning the house until the last minute because let's face it, I have a fourteen week old puppy whose purpose in life is to make a grand mess. I will admit, I left things a little too long. Look, the new Twilight movie came out today and I had to spend two hours gawking at rather well-built teenage boys with the other young women of Richmond, right? And oh, the abs on those guys... Ah, but anyway! I made a quick stop at the grocery store on the way home and remembered that Matthew was out of milk for his coffee, so I bought I pint. I would like to call this a rookie mistake but I knew better than to put the groceries on the sofa (which I did) and to leave Moose unattended (I confess) while I went to start cleaning the kitchen.

You don't really feel too bad for me, I suppose? Even when I tell you that Moose chewed little holes into the pint of milk, which then allowed milk (my nemesis) to be spilled all over the sofa? Yeah, I deserved it. But it doesn't mean that he isn't a furry little bastard!

Because then I took him upstairs while I made the guest room bed. And you know what? That FLB proceeded to pee not only on the floor but on the duvet, which I had (stupidly) put on the floor while I was putting the sheets on the bed.

And because after that (while the sofa cover and the duvet were in the wash), he greeted Uncle Mark by peeing on the floor! Again! Welcome, Mark!

BASTARD! Furry little BASTARD!

But then look at him there in his kennel. Look at him curled up and peaceful, looking up at me with his little doggy eyes. He's so sweet. He's so soft. He so...damn it...

He's soooo cuuuuute.