The Birds

Our child, by which I mean, our dog, is not cooperating with the plan we'd set for him. As parents, we've done everything (or so we think) right. He's been stimulated with play--numerous tennis balls have been chewed up, thrown, batted around, and lost in the ocean. He's experimented with different types of foods--numerous bags of trash have been consumed (including but not limited to packages of raw chicken, rotting chinese leftovers, wet paper towels, sponges, bottles of beer, etc.). The dog knows what he likes--a dip in a pool, a nice sun bath and a hard chew toy will satisfy him to no end. He knows what he doesn't like--baths, ambulances, and strawberries. He's been raised with strong values, he respects his peers and most importantly he respects himself. Mike and I are sure that parents of teenagers experience this all of the time--you're convinced you've done it right so where did you go wrong? When did your child start behaving like an ANIMAL?

Given that Mike and I are parents in training, this is a question that's been raised recently since the dog's taken up eating poop (by now, most of you know this). I'd like to think that poop is a delicacy, the value of which, as humans, we'll never understand. So this is a new habit that I've reluctantly come to accept. It would be as if our teenager were addicted to her iPod or Wii or whatever. At some point, you have to say, "It's not killing her...so we won't fight it anymore." Unfortunately for us, Louie's self destructive behavior hasn't stopped at poop...no, it's continued with a new habit: knocking down the bathroom trash and spreading it all over the house. At first, we were convinced that this was a symptom of some ridiculous steroid given to him by our overzealous and overcharging vet who'd pumped him up with cortizone (as if he were Lebron James) to rid him of a tiny limp. We'd chalked the trash spreading up to 'roid rage if you will. Again, as if our teenage son had started smoking pot once in awhile, we'd say "maybe he's just experimenting because he's stressed. Let's not give him too hard of a time for it." Unfortunately, the bathroom trash was just a gateway drug. As if the snotty tissues, dental floss and other bathroom trash accoutrements littering the house weren't enough, he's taken to the KITCHEN TRASH...his new HEROIN.

Rotting meat, windex soaked paper towels, apple cores, tea bags, and anything else you can imagine appears in corners throughout the house when you least expect them to. We tried to keep quiet about this but it became impossible to ignore. When guests came over the other night...

GUEST: "Oh my god!!!"

ME: "What?"

GUEST: "There's....trash....all....over your hallway! What happened?"

ME: "Oh..."

MIKE: "Uh..."

ME: "It's just a bit of 'roid rage. The dog's on cortizone so he's really unpredictable."

That ended the conversation with them, but it was just the beginning of the conversation for us. 

ME: "I think he's trying to get attention. I think he's unhappy, you know? Maybe he doesn't like his food, or maybe he wants to spend more time with us, you know? Go to the beach or have longer walks or...or...I don't know. Maybe it'll get better..."

MIKE: "Let's see what happens."

So the other night when Mike and Jenna were walking the dogs...

JENNA: "Oh. My. God."

MIKE: "What?"

JENNA: "I think I'm going to throw up."

MIKE: "What?"

JENNA: "Look at Louie."

Our child was defecating on our neighbor's lawn...as usual...except for the fact that...

JENNA: "Is that a tampon?"

So now we have a real problem on our hands. As parents, we decided to cut off the supply. So, the bathroom doors remained closed every time we left the house and for a while this worked just fine. Everything in the house remained in tact and cold turkey was the way to go for Lou. He had a hard time at first, but once the withdrawals subsided, he seemed more alert and less panicked...until New Year's eve when we arrived home, tipsy and exhausted to what looked like we were in Hitchcock's movie, The Birds. There were mangled black birds all over the living room. Feathers were everywhere. 

MIKE: "Oh my God!!!! What the hell happened??!!!"

And I started laughing. I couldn't stop.

ME: "It's....it's...those..."

MIKE: "Dead birds!! How did they get in here???!!!"

ME: "They didn't. Calm down. They're my Halloween decorations! They're these little black crows! He found them and...I guess I need to find new decorations."

Our sweet, loving baby has turned into something we don't recognize. Sure he still has his adorable face, droopy eyes and disgusting farts but there's a side of him that his parents will miss...It's too bad there's no Promises for Puppies...a place where he can truly kick his habit. But all we can do is support him, show him that we care, and help him take his 12 steps (which will include my steps over to Bed Bath and Beyond to buy a trash can with a lock on it) one day at a time.

Comments

[bari]

Maybe its time for the Dog Whisperer?

[Ola]

This had me nearly wetting my pants at work! Loved it!