Two Dog Night

Yeah so we caved, kinda of sorta. We had been talking about it for a while. It’s a bit of a selfish conversation born out of our pending sadness. Nothing lasts forever. The conversations got more serious, more detailed. Plans were hatched, lists made. Then, finally, after months of bullying and harassment by unnamed people (Amy & Rachel), we caved in and did it.

He knows not where he perches.

In the immortal words of DJ Khaled, and another one. No not the dirty copier machine you mutts. The dog. We got another dog. Adopted another rescue I should say. Orville to be precise. A 3-month-old Retriever/Springer Spaniel/Terrier mix. We think. Hard to tell with these rescues who just get abandoned on the side of a road or tossed over a fence at an animal shelter.

He may grow to be a killer, but hey at least he’s cute as a button now. And he rings the bells hanging from the front door when he wants to go out. That gives the cute impression that he is house broken, until you realize he’s peed and crapped himself all the way to said bells. What are you gonna do? Make the kids clean it up that’s what. Who says it’s a sad day when your toddlers grow up?

So now we have Milo and Orville. Solid names all the way around. No cute pic of the two of them sitting with-in close enough proximity to each other if that tells you anything about how Milo is adjusting to his new kid brother. Milo is happiest when Orville is in his crate.

The crate has been the clear marker the two dogs are different. Milo spent 38 minutes in his crate and has slept on the bed ever since. Orville naps in his and since the half of the family with no spine is in Europe, I’ve been crating that little prick every night. Guess who’s sleeping like a baby this week and last? No not the dog. Well maybe he is who knows. He’s downstairs in his crate. Me. I’m sleeping like a baby, a stone, a dead man and what have you.

The dog makes not one peep. When I come down to spring him for the day, he’s lying there staring through the bars waiting for his meal period like a convict resigned to his incarceration, waiting for yard time. So, in that respect he’s been much easier as a puppy than Milo was. We just don’t remember what a pain in the tuckus Milo was when he was a puppy because it seems like he grew into a member of the family so quickly. That could not be furthest from the truth. We have all hardwood floors because of Milo.

Thanks to those hardwood floors, Orville clean-up is so much easier. In Orville’s defense he is getting better. He’s still a puppy.

And if he keeps to his lights out by 10p prison sleep schedule, he may eve get to stay.

Milo T Dog: Read My Lips

Can we all agree to get past the point that I (we) have a dog. And the fact that we, (I) love that damn mutt. After three years now I think you all have wrung out the whole, You’re a dog lover now. Ok, yes I am. Moving on.

Aside from Milo being my constant running partner when I’m home, he happens to be incredibly smart. He’s still exuberant, but obedient for the most part. He also appears to be getting smarter. Yeah he heeds more commands, but it’s more than that. Maybe you life long dog lovers have already experienced this.

I know this might seem crazy. Honestly I’m surprised I’m even typing this next sentence.  Lately it appears Milo is trying to talk. When I say talk I mean speak in human verbiage. We all know dogs can communicate on a high level with barks, body language and their eyes. No, the communication I’m referring to is Milo looking and sounding like he’s attempting to use human words of the English variety.

I think the more weird or maybe concerning part of it all is that I feel like I understand what he’s trying to say.

Usually when he needs or wants to go out he’ll stand by the door. Where I sit in my office affords me a clean view of the front door. So when he posts up on the door mat he expects that I see him and will respond quickly and efficiently. When I don’t move to his liking he approaches me and starts to do this weird wailing/whining type noise.


His, “Please stay home today.” look.

He looks right at me, backs up three of fours steps as he makes this weird noise.  All that as his head is bobbing up and down. It’s like he’s trying to say, “C’mon bro time to go.” And when I don’t move at that little exhortation he gets closer and starts talking. Bitching me out even. At least that what it sounds like.

The long whining switches to short bursts of sound and his mouth moving as if he’s trying to form words. I swear to you.

When he really needs to go out he gets more demonstrative. As if somehow the more he urges me,  the more he gestures, the easier for me to understand. If I didn’t know better I’d say he was scolding me for not understanding him.

He doesn’t do it for long.  Mainly because if it becomes clear that I don’t understand or I’m not going to comply he runs upstairs and bothers the Mrs. Milo is not long on patience.

God forbid I don’t understand him where he’s hungry. Which is always. But again, he doesn’t bark. He goes into this weird short burst growling/whining/wailing type machinations.  I firmly believe he’ll speak one day. I sit and wait for the day real English words come out of his mouth.

The only question is will they be the four letter version?