[Dailydrool] Sometimes We Must Make Allowances for our Hounds

[Pat Dill]

Carol was off in NY on Thursday night, so I was home alone with the hounds. 
I wanted to eat my dinner surrounded in peace by my four hounds in front of 
the television after a tough day at work. Remember that Rosie is senile, and 
Sampson likes to lick her incessantly if he can get to her; Lucy will whine 
piteously at an increasing volume if there is a human sitting anywhere in 
the house -- a lap must always be provided; Sampson will share the love seat 
with a person and Lucy, but only if Lucy is there first (otherwise he will 
become territorial and prevent her access); Bailey just wants a soft place 
to lie down but must be settled in the room where the person is before 
Sampson gets settled, lest Sampson defend his territory from his position. 
(Is this sounding like an algebra problem yet?).  When Carol is there and we 
choose to eat dinner in front of the TV, she is basically held captive with 
Lucy on her lap while I jockey everyone else into position.

To accomplish my goal solo I executed the following plan:

Got everyone out for a potty break
Waited for Rosie to land someplace then carefully surrounded her with 
appropriate barriers so that Sampson could not lick her
Led Bailey into the living room and convinced him to lie down on a dog bet
Heated my dinner plate, poured my beverage, taking it with a coaster and 
napkin to the end table adjoining the loveseat and turned on the television
Lured Sampson and Lucy into the living room by holding my dinner plate in a 
position where they could sense food
Carefully placed the dinner plate on the back part of the end table JUST 
long enough to scoop up Lucy and sit down on the loveseat with her in my lap
Grabbed my plate and coaxed Sampson up on the loveseat beside me

Aha!  Mission accomplished!  All will nap while I watch TV and consume my 
dinner.  Nothing to it!

Then the problems began.  All the preparations took so long that the show I 
wanted to watch was over and the remote was on the other side of the room. 
Sigh.  I can live without it.  Let's tackle supper.  Uh-oh.  Forgot the 
fork.  Hmm.  Can't get up to get the fork with Lucy in my lap.  If I get up 
now, I will never be able to get everyone in place again.  Let's see.  The 
fish pieces and Brussels sprouts were reasonably finger-friendly. The mashed 
potatoes, not so much.  Oh well.  At least I have a napkin.  Three mouthfuls 
in, I see that Bailey has gotten up from his bed and is walking slowly 
around in that "scooty" position that generally precedes a bowel movement. 
Can I get up and get him out in time?  Unlikely.  And he doesn't do well to 
be dragged by the collar.  A disgusting choice, perhaps, but I chose to let 
him do his business while I proceeded to eat, trying not to look.  Then I 
noticed that it was diarrhea, and he was leaving it in puddles everywhere. 
Ugh.  The smell is not nice.  I am thinking perhaps I simply must get up at 
this point.  I shove down the rest of the plate's contents and try to 
carefully move Lucy aside without rousing her so I can deal with Bailey. 
That's when I notice that Lucy's spay incontinence has struck again and my 
lap is soaked with urine.

Didn't turn out exactly the way I'd planned.

I had just finished cleaning up the diarrhea and changing my clothes when 
Carol called.  "How's it going?" she asks. "Oh just fine," I say.  "Typical 
night with the hounds."

No, we aren't slaves for our hounds.  Not at all.

Pat Dill