Suddenly *Not So* Single Journey

It’s been a rough few days for the poor baby.  Let me translate.  It’s been a rough few days for us.

Somehow I can’t emphasize enough that this dog, this Dane, this monstrosity of a pet…who I love as much as possible and waaaaay more than I ever imagined…may be the death of me.  I know I’ve told you about stumbling over him.  And while that part is most decidedly over, since he’s so big, it’s more like having a big kid than a pet, there are other challenges that come with his size.

Like all dogs, he likes to follow us around.  This means we face a constant bottle neck in the hall as he realizes suddenly that we are coming back out of a room and he’s forced to walk backwards.  (He’s not a fan of backwards.)  He’s constantly under foot, which is more like constantly under elbow.  He can stick his head in the sink while I’m brushing my teeth or washing dishes, while his feet are firmly planted on the ground.  And that often means that I’m shoving his face away from the counter while I’m cooking.  (That dog can drool!)  He loves sticks, only his sticks are more like tree limbs.  (Those he finds in abundance after Ed unloads his truck after work.)  Did I mention he has poor spatial reasoning skills?  Yup, nothing like having your feet swept out from under you by a dog.

Well, over the last few days I’ve been injured in three separate incidents.  There was the near shiner that I told you about.  HE assured me that the swelling was barely noticeable.  And then HE couldn’t stop staring at it.  Grrr.

Then there was the way Bishop hooked my nostril with his tooth as he spastically tried to snuggle me Monday morning.  I’m probably going to eventually need a plastic surgeon.  Know any good ones?

There was also my head injury on Saturday night that I failed to mention earlier.

And it is worth mentioning.  For some reason, we were playing in the house with Bishop…again.  And HE was on his knees on the floor.  Not me.  I’m too smart to get injured the same way twice.  Luckily there are so many new ways to get injured that I should be set for quite some time.  In this situation, I was running to get the cow that HE had thrown.  It landed near the back door.  And I was determined to beat Bishop there.  The very real possibility that he would have his slobbery mouth all over the cow I would then have to touch was a motivating factor for my rush.

I won.  I beat Bishop to the cow.  Only, as I bent over to pick it up, he rammed my butt.  And I went head first into the door frame and crumbled to the floor.  It hurt.  And it must have sounded as bad as it looked, since I heard HIM calling to me.

HIM: Um, baby?  Baby!

When I opened my eyes, he was standing over me wearing a concerned look.  And when I sat up, he gave my head a thorough examination.  Bishop looked baffled.  There was a definite ‘wasn’t me’ look on his face.  After I was kissed and Bishop was banished to his couch/time out chair for playing too rough with me, the game was called on account of injury.

We had a discussion about the dangers of a rearing a Dane after my cheekbone finished swelling.

HIM: I told you that you’d have to be careful with him as he got bigger.

me: ME!?  Bishop needs to be careful with me!

HE laughed and walked over to the puppy, sitting in his self-imposed time out.

HIM: Bishop, did you play too rough with Mommy?

(As if my face wasn’t evidence enough.)

There’s a real danger that I may soon end up the poster child for domestic violence.  After a while, people may doubt that it’s the dog and think instead that HE is abusing me.  As if.  I’m more like the poster child for being on the receiving end of domesticated animal violence.  Still, I love that pup.

Oh, and don’t think I’m the only one who has suffered Bishop’s mouth.  HE lost a wallet…in the sense that Bishop ate it.  At least he had the good sense to remove the credit cards and license first.  Good puppy?