Sixty pounds of burning love

Our backyard has yet to be completely fenced in. Two sides are fenced and come all the way up to the sides of the house - minus the fact that there is a dog-squeezable sized hole in the farmy-Clampett fence side - but the back is open. Luckily our yard butts up to a wild tangle of trees and bushes and vines and so there is a completely enclosed feel when you are back there. That is, if you are HUMAN. Copper, for all of his plaintive requests to get up on the couch and snuggle - primarily by a tentative paw placement that turns into an all out climb onto the furniture if we allow it - is not human. And thus so many of my phone calls these days sound like this:

"You want me to get WHAT at Lowe's?"

"Hang on a sec. Oh God, I can't see him anymore. CO-AHHH-PERRR?"

"Oh okay, he was only behind a bush, go on."

"Mm hm. Right. SHIT I THINK HE WENT UNDER THE CREEK SIDE OF THE FENCE."

"Copper! Copper! COPPERCOMEBACKHERERIGHTNOW!"

"Right, okay, there he is, phew. I think he had crawled out to the front yard to visit with the neighbors."

"DAMMIT HE'S GONE AGAIN."

Which means of course that we do need to finish the fence and shore up the gaps before I get a confused call from a new neighbor all, um, I think we have your dog and he's crawled into my lap and refuses to move.

Sorry, the dog's a total whore.

Comments

[Tammy]

Sounds like the way I handle the kids!

[MIL]

Don't talk about my favorite Grand Dog like that. Promise Cider will never hear such words about him/herself.