Obsession

I’m going to warn you right up front. This story has no moral. Normally, I have some deeper purpose for sharing my stories, but not today. In fact, it doesn’t even involve a verbal faux pas. I just found it funny.

If you have ever met our dogs, you’ll know they’re the cutest (and orneriest) dogs you’ve ever met. In fact, one might call them a pair of royal pains in the ass. (Literally and figuratively. They are the dog of the queen, you know.) Our female has serious attitude, but our male has a serious obsession: play. I have never met a dog with more energy than Bones. To help you understand the scope of his obsession, this short-legged Corgi walked six miles with me on moderately hilly terrain in 80+ degree weather, ate a few pieces of ice (his other obsession) and dropped a ball at my husband’s feet. It’s a problem, I tell you. Well, Corgis were bred to be herding dogs, so my mom bought them each a stuffed sheep (affectionately dubbed “sheepins”) for Christmas and they have been obsessed with them ever since.

Now, if you’ve ever seen a sheep – I mean a real Highlands of Scotland-style sheep – they’re pretty dirty. They are in no way the cute, snowy creatures of fluff we make them out to be. Well, ours quickly came to mirror their real-life counterparts. It was disgusting. Truly disgusting. But, like children, our dogs clearly have their favorites and instead of replacing them, we have endured… until today. It was time. Bath time, that is!

So, after much scrubbing, whining (from Bones, not me), squeezing, mending (they are the holiest sheep I’ve ever seen) and rinsing, both “sheepins” have been upgraded and are currently bouncing around in the drier. And the dogs? Well, Maya doesn’t seem to care, but Bones has stationed himself at the door to our garage (where the washer and drier live) until his dearly beloved sheep emerge, new once more, from their appropriately titled “fluff” cycle.

Then, let the obsession resume!