Our landlord sold out to a corporation and now the house rules are changing. For one, we need to get a prescription for the dog.
I am not kidding. If you're just starting to get to know us, Frank is Deaf and part of Caesar's job is to alert Frank to activity at the front door, back door, and to tell Frank when I'm making a big breakfast. (Smoke alarm. Burning bacon or toast flambe.) The prescription is supposed to be proof that he's an assistance dog as opposed to "just" an ordinary pet. Honestly, I think no pet is "just" ordinary. If you have an animal sharing your home, wouldn't you consider your critter(s) to be absolutely necessary for your health and sanity?
Ok, Caesar takes his job a little too seriously at the front door. To the point where he has to spend a little quiet time in the box. (It's his dog crate. We're strict but not cruel.) Although today we had a stranger come to the door and ask if I knew any Mexican families in the neighborhood. I figured they didn't want to be bothered by a door to door salesman any more than I did, so I lied and said "New here, sorry." Caesar went nuts the whole time, and I could clearly see the difference in his behavior from his two "Hey I know you! Hi! Can I lick you! You haven't been here for a long time!" bark and the "Hey who are you? Why are you coming in? I don't know you! This is my house!" Today's bark clearly said "Back off, putz."
When I closed the door from the salesman Caesar looked at me as if to say, "Sorry, I couldn't help it," but I quickly got down to his eye level (way down because he's part Dachshund and part Jack Russell and he's a shortie) and said "Good Dog!" I reached up and grabbed his box of treats and put it on the floor for him to choose what he wanted. He grabbed a smelly cheese sausage thing and set it on the rug. Then he grabbed a rawhide stick and set that on the rug. I gave him a cookie (dog biscuit) and he took it then spit it back into the box. Picky, picky. After nosing around he grabbed one more smelly cheese thing, then went over to the rug to eat his snacks.
Weirdo. And we need a prescription for him.
Considering he is part of OUR warped family, that actually seems perfect.
Be sure to check Pam's Inbox for today's giggle: