February 9th, 2013: Animal House

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February 9, 2013 by hookershorde

February 9th, 2013:  Animal House

 

I live in 1,350 square foot house with four dogs and a cat.

 

Within hours of the installation, the dark brown hardwood floor was covered with deep scratches compliments of Faith, the Bernese Mountain dog.
The contractor was still here, putting in the energy efficient doors and windows, when Faith drew four lines down the sliding glass door with her nails.  Booker, the Cockapoo, and Gus, the poodle mix, marked the new picture window with nose prints.

 

I don’t have a coat closet.  Instead, I have a cat bathroom.  The door features a neatly carved cat-sized door so Maude can go in and out at her leisure.

 

Gus spent half his life in a puppy mill.  Therefore, from me, he’s never heard the word, “no.”  Gus made a small incision in the corner cushion so he could un-stuff the sofa.  Now, that cushion, features a fleece blanket.

 

The entire sofa is covered with fitted sheets and towels because Gus likes to eat on it.

 

In August, Mr. Sunny Sunny Bun Bun arrived in our home.  He’s fourteen, missing teeth, has watery eyes and seems to be a bit hard of hearing.  His owner died and her family surrendered him to the shelter.  Mr. Bun Bun is morbidly obese.  It turns out, he has Cushing’s Syndrome.  He’s lost almost six pounds on his sweet potato and green bean diet.

 

But, now, all the dogs want sweet potatoes with their meals.  So, there’s a spot of orange on the carpet near the stairs where Faith eats.  She’s a messy eater. The white baseboard has a few crusty spots of sweet potato and kibble, too.  After mashing sweet potatoes, the beater in my KitchenAid mixer has turned orange.

 

Two Rubbermaid bins stand in the downstairs powder room filled with kibble.

 

Scattered around the house are enough marrowbones to build a Brontosaurus.   It’s not uncommon to trip on two or three on my way down the stairs to make coffee in the morning.

 

Under my bed, the brown Stainmaster carpet looks like it is made of cashmere.  Faith sleeps there.

 

At night, snoring and heavy breathing fills my room.  My queen-sized bed is crowded with three dogs and a cat.  Maude kneads my stomach with her front paws.

 

The really nice comforter with the cross-stitching is folded with the matching pillow shams in my linen closet.  Instead, my bed is covered with a stain-resistant comforter from Wal-Mart.

 

When I come home, four tails wag, four voices bark, and four tongues flop.

 

Above my mantle is a mural painted by a gifted artist and animal rescuer, Missy Johnson, from Dogs for the Paws.

 

Living with animals makes my house a home.Mural

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