attackfish

Grammy's apartment has neither a desk with a book case on top nor an office chair with wheels. I'm not sure if the steam room makes up for this yet, as I haven't used it, but I'm pretty sure my dogs feel deprived. Yo-yo, my little Italian greyhound Maltese mix, (we thought he has half poodle, but he's so skinny he makes poodles look heavyset) is painfully neurotic, and with those long stork-like legs, he's a little rocket, a rocket on springs. He likes to launch himself onto my desk, and then from my desk onto the book case. He snuggles into the little gap between the top of the book case and the ceiling, trembling and crying until I come in and stand beneath him, arms out until he crawls of the edge and falls into me, still whimpering and fussing, to cling to me until he calms down.

Yo-yo: MOMMY! I'm so glad you rescued me, you have no idea how scared I was!
Fish: You are such a wimp! What would you have done if I weren't home?
Yo-yo: Don't be silly Mommy, I never do this when you're not home.
Fish: So this is all just a cleverly designed ploy to get me to cuddle you?
Yo-yo: *quivers* I plead the fifth.

I also have to hang my purse from a hook high on my wall, because Yo-yo can jump onto anything I can set it on, and he likes to steal my keys. He sticks a foot through the strap and holds it taut while he unzips it with his teeth and carefully lifts out my keys. Then, tail high, prize in his mouth, he runs into the family room to stuff my keys between the couch cushions. It's always the same couch cushions too.

Fish: I don't get why he does that.
Mom: Maybe he knows that when you can't find them, you can't leave.
Yo-yo: And then you will stay with me forever!
Fish: My dog is like an abusive boyfriend.
Mom: More like an anxious five year old.
Yo-yo: Mommy! *clings*

Ziggy, my poodle, conversely is independent, playful, and a terrible thief. If it's not nailed down, it's his. If it can be pried up, it's his. If he can cut away whatever it's nailed to, it's his. There's a reason we feed him in the cupboard under the stairs (I feel Harry Potter jokes flying through the air at me). He once stole a piece of liverwurst out of Yo-yo's mouth. He opened his mouth and put it all the way over Yo-yo's muzzle, and just sucked it out. Being the adventurous type he is, less than a day after I got wood floors in my bedroom, Zig figured out that if he jumps at my desk chair, he can land on it and send it spinning across the room like a puppy version of the teacup ride. And then at the other end of my (long narrow) room, he can jump off and do it again.

Ziggy: Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Fish: It's two in the morning, get back on the bed and go to sleep.
Ziggy: This is how I roll. And this is how I roll back. And this is how I roll. And this is how I roll back...

You know, without the desk and the chair, it's a lot more peaceful around here.