The Granddaughters and their parental units will be house-sitting for a great-aunt while she is on vacation this week. The aunt has a big dog that mauls The Granddaughters' two little dogs, especially the tiny, worrisome sh*t-head, Dixon. Guess who gets to babysit the little dogs this week. Yep.
Dixon started his mournful howling the minute the family left my house. When he finally settled down, we found him snoozing in my big schlepping bag, which I'd left on the floor behind a chair.
At night, The Granddaughters usually kennel both dogs. Come bedtime, I called them into the girls' room and told them to get in the kennel. Neither of them complied. Ollie, the bigger dog (who is barely the size of a dust mop), slouched down on his belly and looked up at me with his big, sad eyes. I picked him up and stuffed him in the kennel, along with his yappy sidekick, turned off the light, and closed the bedroom door.
Five minutes later, the howling started. We let him howl for a while, thinking he'd eventually stop. We were wrong.
I said to The Husband, "I'm about ready to put their butts out on the back porch for the night." He said he'd been thinking the same thing. Instead, he got up and turned on the TV in the girls' room. The girls claim they can't sleep without the TV on. I guess the dogs feel the same way. In any case, we didn't hear any more out of them for the rest of the night.
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