Blessed Unconsciousness

My grandparents are divorced, and the general consensus is that this is a very good thing.  I came to the conclusion that this was an even better thing when I was five and realized that if I could induce one of them to marry, I could get presents from my step grandparents too.  This November, my grandmother remarried, to an old friend who’s as much trouble as she is, and I was a bridesmaid.

When my Grandfather told my mother that he’d be in town for a few days, my step grandfather, wonderful man that he is, convinced my grandmother to take a romantic trip to the mountains with him.  My grandmother and Matt live here for half the year, and no sane person wants my grandmother and grandfather in the same house.

So my grandmother asked me to take care of her garden and her dogs, and I agreed.  After all, it didn’t matter that I had enough troubles of my own with Yo-yo trapped in the crate after his knee surgery, I wanted to do my part to keep my grandparents apart, and how much trouble could four little shi tzus be?

They ate dinner happily, and I was starting to think all would be well, and when my grandmother called, I felt very confident indeed.

Grammy:  Are they alright?  Did they eat for you?
Fish: They ate just as much as they always do.  I think you have an inflated sense of your importance.

It would take a lot more than Grammy’s absence to put her piglets off food.

So it was entirely without trepidation that I left them alone in my grandmother’s kitchen with their beds and food and went to my own bed.  And then they cried, and cried, and barked, and cried, and my mother let them out and took them upstairs to me.  This was exactly what they wanted.  They tore around my room, playing, and mock fighting, and I waited for them to settle down.  Courtney and Happy, the old geezers, curled up next to me, and fell asleep.

But the girls, Princess Yum Yum and Tricky Woo, year old litter mates, did not.  They raced around my room, bounding over my bed and doing their business in every corner.  I smacked Yummy on the behind when I saw her peeing, but it didn’t work.

Fish: Yummy!  Bad dog!
Princess Yum Yum’s expression: Mind your own business, human.

Happy decided she’d had too much of this place, and lumbered off my bed and over to the door.  The girls started trying to get her to play.

Tricky and Yummy: Come play with us, Grandma!
Happy: *Nip, growl* Can’t you little hooligans see that it’s midnight?
Courtney: *Snore*

I have two of my own year old puppies, Yo-yo and Ziggy, and Ziggy is perfectly healthy and romps with the girls all the time.  I figured he’s have a blast with the girls, but within ten minutes, their constant nipping and pouncing had him curled up under my pillow, shaking and whimpering.  I didn’t know it was even possible to bully Ziggy.

The few times I fitfully dropped off for a few minutes, I dreamed that giant badgers were digging under my head, because Ziggy kept moving.

At night, I put Yo-yo’s crate up on a pair of chairs beside my bed so that he’s close to Ziggy and me on the bed, and I thought he’s be safe surrounded by metal bars, but then I heard a piercing scream and happy panting, and I looked over to see Tricky and Yummy on top of the cage, rocking it back and forth.  I chased them way, terrified that they would topple it over and hurt themselves and Yo-yo, but they just climbed back onto it, over, and over, and over again.

When my mother knocked on my door to tell me we were going day tripping with my grandfather, I released the hounds and fell asleep instead.  A ten o’clock, my grandmother called.

Grammy: How is everyone?
Fish: When you get home, you die.

I don’t care how much those little terrors bark, they’re staying in my grandmother’s apartment tonight.