Half-mad

It was late, very late when the dog jumped on my head. I pushed him away with a mumbled "no Jackson" and went back to sleep. A few minutes later I felt something warm at my foot. In my sleep state I push my foot down into this warmness trying to figure out what it is. I figured it out really quick. My eyes flew open and I jumped out of bed as I realised that the warmth at the end of my bed was dog pee. Wait.. before you go into the whole, "he tried to wake you up" this dog can jump up and down from my bed with no problem. I would have much sooner forgiven a floor accident than a bed accident! So I take the dog out. It's two in the morning. I took him out at 11:30 so he's only had a few hours to fill his bladder. I know he hasn't drank anything because I put the water bowl up so he couldn't. Did I mention the dog is picky? He has to have the PERFECT spot to poop in the yard. Oh, any old spot in the house will do, but the yard... now that's a different story. He must pick out the best pooping atmosphere available. It takes him forever. Meanwhile I'm counting my hours of sleep in my head trying not to rush him. If you rush him he just takes longer. Finally, business is done, I go back inside, strip my sheets, cuss the dog and go back to bed.

Jack is a pup. He's a good pup, who is being house broken. Although there are times when I think I am the one being broken. He's lovable, playful, and fun to watch as he races from one end of the house to the other. He also has a shoe fettish. He doesn't really chew too much on the shoes, (maybe because I have slapped him with them) but he does love to drag them to his lair, which is under my chair. He brings all of his "fresh kill" to his spot. At the end of the day he will have at least two pair of Mary's flip flops, one of Brenden's and one of mine under the chair. This is mixed in with a couple of Barbie shoes, a toy cat, chew sticks (unchewed), and chew toys. It's cute, but annoying. He doesn't really chew on any of it, he just brings it to his spot and sits with it, like he's guarding it from Tilly. Tilly just ignores him and sits on my bed like "momma loves me more".

Anyway, Jackie is getting better with the whole potty training business, but still has some accidents. Bren and I have started a little game coming up with new names for Jackson's accidents. For instance Bren may tell Mary that Jack has left her a present in the bathroom. Or that Jack has some warm steamy goodness in the hall for Mary. Mary hates this of course, and hates picking up the poop. I noticed that I was picking up most of it and told Mary that I would get rid of Jack if she didn't start helping with him. She simply shot back, "If you do can I get a kitty? They use a box." No.. no cats. She has started helping more. Last night Jack had pooped in Mary's room (a little part of me is glad he's starting to have "accidents" in her room only). I told her this morning. She didn't want to clean it up. Bren pipes in "Jack baked you some warm breakfast biscuts Mary." I thought this was hilarious. Mary, not so much. From Dog logs to breakfast biscuts. Priceless.

Just one crappy little story about a teensy part of my life.