Rookie Mistake

I have a great dog. She’s smart and loving and so stinking cute. At night time she stares at me when she thinks it’s time for me to go to bed. She runs to our bedroom, waits a few minutes, then runs back out to find me and just stares at me. This repeats until she’s too tired to care, then she just lays on the floor by my bed. She does the same thing then it’s time for me to get up in the morning. Somehow she knows weekdays from weekends, don’t ask me how. But she’ll fuss at me and jump up and lick my ear if she thinks I need to get up. She’s never been wrong.

She knows a lot of English. Hungry, thirsty, bone, toy, outside, potty, room, night night. She gets all those, and she obeys. She has a bit of a problem with “Please don’t jump on our house guests” or “I’d rather you not pee all over the floor when people come over” but we’re working on it.

No matter the time or place, if we say, “Rookie go to your room” she’ll run into the nearest kennel.

Case in point. A couple weeks ago we kept our pseudo niece and nephew while their parents went to Galveston for a terrible anniversary weekend. So Pancho and Leia spent some time with Aunt Chelsea, Uncle Steve, and Cousin Rookie. We had a great time. Pancho hid from Rookie and Leia while they played and sniffed each other’s butts. Then they all napped.

Pancho loves Uncle Steve. Since Pancho stole the good sleeping spot, Leia had to settle on this.

Sweet pups! But that wasn’t my point. See how small they are? They share a kennel. A kennel that is still significantly smaller than Rookie’s kennel. So one evening we were about to head out the door. We told Rookie, “Go to your room.” And this is what she did.

Is that not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?

Want to know what is not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen? Besides the explosive diarrhea, of course. Rookie’s hatred for the mailman. I know it sounds cliché, but it’s true. The mailman is the only person on the planet that Rookie hates. Fortunately she is kenneled during the week so we avoid drama those days, but on the weekends… watch out.

Our mailbox is actually just a slit in our door. Our mailman literally drops the mail into our house. Rookie does not enjoy this. She thinks he’s going to kill his momma. And since she doesn’t like the mailman, she doesn’t like anything he brings. Every time he comes, she goes nuts. Growls, barks, runs all over the house. The hair on the back of her neck sticks up. She looks terribly vicious. And then he starts to put the mail through. She transforms herself into a rabid werewolf a la Taylor Latner and takes care of business.

And we end up with this.

Mail with holes. This was a particularly vicious day. I think it was because Stephen and I were at work and my sister was hanging out at our house. Rookie really wanted to make sure she was safe. Every piece of mail that day had holes in it. THROUGH the envelopes and cards. You could literally hold them up and see straight through them. In multiple places. You know what comes in the mail this time of year?? Christmas cards. My apologies go out to my cousin, Natalie, who now has a hole in her body. And to Taryn. I’m sure it wasn’t personal. I don’t think Rookie can read, so certainly she didn’t know that card was from you and Drew. Or maybe she did and she wanted to toughen your dog up.

The world may never know.

(Giveaway ends tonight. If you haven’t entered, do it.)