Wednesday, June 8, 2011

The Devil Wears Prada

Breeding dogs isn't as fun a prospect as one might think. Sure, there are puppies, but the fun of puppies only lasts a few weeks and then they are off to their new homes to become someone else's problem ... cough ... I mean joy. Lots and lots of joy. You heard it here first.

The process to get to the puppies isn't one to be taken lightly. What we do to our dogs by breeding them is throw them deliberately into a situation where their lives are turned upsidedown and backwards and they have no idea what is going on. And don't be fooled, dogs still die as a result of being bred, just like people. It's not an easy thing to have upwards of a dozen puppies; on occasion surgical intervention is required and sometimes the end result is a litter of puppies with no dam, a dam without puppies or a breeder with neither.  Bitches have no choice in the matter, we as breeders decide when they are going to produce, and I have looked askance at Leeloo and her growing bulk more than once with a little selfish guilt in my heart.

I've heard some people describe their bitches as being content and ready for motherhood, almost serene in a way and very happy to be pregnant. Leeloo is not that bitch. Leeloo thinks some great injustice has occurred, that she is being punished for something she doesn't remember doing, and that life as she knows it is gradually becoming less and less comfortable and more and more like slow torture. Don't get me wrong though, Leeloo gets her own back in special ways that remind me that I am dealing with a clever bitch who is incapable of feeling bad for making my life as uncomfortable as hers has become.

I like to sleep. I get to go to sleep whenever I want really, it's one of the bonuses of living alone and being able to control almost every aspect of my life. Except now. Leeloo has seen fit to ensure that I get less sleep and she does it in the most innocent and unassuming way that it's hard to get mad at her since I am the reason she is in this state in the first place.

At night we settle down with a quick extra snack for Leeloo, a treat for Boy and Esme, and after I read for a bit I drift off to sleep. Fifteen minutes later Leeloo is up getting a drink and then wandering around for a minute or two. I wake from a light doze to see what she wants. Nothing. I tell her to get back on the bed which she does with some difficulty. I go back to sleep.

Half an hour later I hear her wandering around the house and then a whine from the door. I wake and ask her if she needs to pee. Nothing. I get up and as I walk toward her she dances in a circle and tells me to scratch her bum, which I do. I then walk toward the back door to see if she needs to go out. Nope. She wanders to the dog treat cabinet - NO ... you don't need any treats. I stomp into the bedroom, crawl back in bed, tell her to get on the bed NOW and she does laboriously and lies down. Back to sleep.

Midnight. Same routine only this time she's been standing at the bedroom door whining for a few minutes and the reason I know this is because the sound of her whining has been integrated into a dream I was having. I wake, get up again, scratch the bum, no to treats again, doesn't want to go out to pee, back to bed.

Two in the morning. Insistent whining. The most insistent of the night. Up, bum scratch, I head to the back door and she follows like she's got all night, I open the door, she stands thinking about it for a moment and I say GET. OUT. She goes, stands on the deck for a minute, sniffs the wind, looks around, listens, wanders off the deck for a minute or two, comes back to the door and comes inside. I storm back to bed, get in, tell her to lie down NOW, she does, she groans, she stretches and she sleeps until the alarm goes off 4 1/2 hours later.

If anyone ever says dogs, particularly bitches, aren't capable of pay back just send them my way. I'll show you a bitch who is not only clever, sadistic and ingenious but she'll make you feel sorry for her the whole time.

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