I should point out that I am completely aware that when
speaking about Miss Scout Jean Louise (the dachshund) it typically sounds like
I’m referencing a two year old. My mom has said for the past year, “This is so
insightful. I can’t wait to watch you with your kids.” I use terms such as ma’am and don’t be rude. It should also be noted that she’s completely
spoiled and holds massive grudges when (easily) annoyed.
The month of September was a busy month for me. It held many
late nights and weekend obligations. I’m lucky enough to have parents who look
after Scout on those days where I will be gone for hours at a time. And while
Scout loves my parents, apparently she loves her alone time and home time more.
This is a little fact I found out the hard way the first weekend in October.
I was invited to attend a party for work on Saturday. I also
planned to hit the store before the party to pick up some chips. The shindig
began at 11am and I was only staying two hours. Two hours. Why would I even think about dropping Scout off at my
parents? Not necessary. She would be fine in her beautiful bed complete with
bone and food. The problem here is that Scout is extremely smart and observant.
So. I’m assuming she knew it was a Saturday and she knows that she doesn’t get
locked up on Saturdays. I’m also assuming she was watching for signs of a
lock-up situation.
I put the finishing touches on my hair and make-up. I packed
up my purse. I looked for Scout. Wait. Where’s Scout? I’ll tell you where she
was, the little shit, she was under my bed. It should be noted that this is the
only place in the house I’m unable to reach her. I had five minutes to wrangle
her before I needed to leave. It was a 45-minute drive and I still needed to
hit the grocery store. So I was a woman of action…or a liar…whatever you want
to call me.
“Scout! Let’s go! We’re going to Nana’s. Do you want to see
Gracie? COME ON!
This is usually a sure
fire way to get her in the garage. She was on to my schemes. No movement from
the cave.
Okay. Fine. I’ll open the garage. If she hears the garage
she’ll come running. She’ll think it’s Nana and Gramps.
No movement. We’re ten
minute in to this standoff.
Sigh. Okay. Doorbell. I’ll ring the doorbell and she’ll come
running.
No movement.
Fine. You stay under there. I’ll sit on the couch with my
iPad and pretend I’m watching a show.
No movement. We’ve now
reached twenty minutes. At this point the chip purchase was out.
Okay. No problem. Not
true. I’m sweating at this point. I’ll sit on top the bed. You’ll think I’m
taking a nap and this will totally work.
No movement.
OKAY! OKAY! NO PROBLEM! I’ll get some cheese. You don’t want
cheese? OKAY! NO PROBLEM! I’ll heat up a hotdog. OH! I SEE! You’re going to
come close enough to me to nibble at my fingers, but out of reach for me to
grab you. YOU LITTLE SHIT!
We’re now 30 minutes
in to the standoff.
Last resort. A call to
Dad in Florida as tears begin to build.
Me: “Hey Dad. I need a favor. I’m going to put you on
speakerphone and I need you to start talking to Scout and calling her.
Dad: Dayna. I’m in the middle of a mall. I’m not doing that.
Me: I’M IN THE MIDDLE OF A CRISIS! I NEED YOUR HELP HERE!
Dad: Clearly this is your last resort. Are you crying? Why
are you crying? Stop crying.
Me: She’s just so awful. I mean why is she treating me this
way?
Dad: Okay. SCOUT? SCOUT? SCOUT?
Me: This is worthless. It’s not working. You’re not helping.
Dad: You called me! Of course it’s not working. I don’t know
what to tell you. Call and cancel or I don’t know (laugh) get a broom.
Me: A BROOM! YES!
Dad: No…wait….I was jok-
CLICK
45 minutes in…
The broom. I flew down those stairs. I grabbed that broom. I
stomped back up those stairs. I threw that broom under the bed. I started
screaming like a madman. “You little shit. I’m late you’ve made me late. You
get out heeerrreee! Who do you think you are? Do you think you’re in charge? You
can just sit in your cage and think about this today. I may not let you go to
Nana’s tomorrow. This is not acceptable."
And so she came out and peed because I had scared here.
Lovely. Now I feel guilty for her bad attitude. I headed out to my party…with
puffy eyes and a headache.
Phone Ringing:
Mom: Hey. Dad said I should call you. He said you and Scout
are fighting.
Me: She's a little shit. She made me feel awful. I had to get
a broom and she peed herself, Mom. PEED HERSELF! She made me turn into Mommie
Dearest and now I feel guilty and I don’t know if I closed my garage and I don’t
look good because I’m crying. THIS WAS MY MOMMIE DEAREST MOMENT!
Mom: I’ll go over and get her and check the garage.
Me: WHAT? Don’t reward her for bad behavior.
Mom: I think she’s needs some alone time with you. This is
her punishment for you being busy this month. Just call and cancel your plans
today.
Me: Yeah. They’ll love that. I can’t come I’m fighting with
my dog.
Mom: Yeah. You’ll sound nuts.
I’m happy to report that when I picked her up three hours
later she was so ridiculously affectionate. We’ve mended fences and haven’t had
another episode. That may be because I shut the bedroom door when leaving now.
Let’s take bets. Who thinks I was being video taped that
morning? Who thinks I’ll be reliving the same episode with my future
15-year-old daughter?