Lucy is a Looney Tune. Since bringing Olivia home her temperament seemed to changed for the better, but lately she's been up to her old antics again, so perhaps she was just in hibernation mode for the winter.
On Wednesday I leaned down to give her puppy pets when at the same time I smelled and saw death. Streaked down her puppy fur. Where the heck did she find a dead animal? I wondered. She had only been cruising around our very small yard, and I would have noticed a dead animal there.
Nonetheless, I marched her downstairs to the tub and a bit of Drama Clean shampoo. Generally after a bath Lucy will run into the living room to dry off (after I have thoroughly towel dried her--apparently this is not good enough for her). She'll do these running dives onto her side and then wiggle back and forth on her back in an attempt to rub off the water. It's quite a loud ordeal, as she dives into the floor with great zeal.
This time, however, I guess she wanted to try air drying instead. This consisted of running wildly around the house, throwing herself into the ground at regular intervals, and then racing into another room. Downstairs, upstairs, downstairs, back upstairs again, round and round. Leaping onto furniture only to leap back off--a sort of Lucy-style hairdryer, I suppose.
Did I mention that Olivia had JUST fallen asleep?
So this lunatic dog is wreaking all sorts of havoc and I don't really want to yell at her because that, too, could wake up the baby.
Instead, I ignore her and pick up a can of WD-40 and spray the squeaky hinges in our side door. The squeaking had gotten quite out of control, though JB claims he never noticed it.
When Lucy sees me at the door she gets really excited and stops her flying dog antics. She instead jumps up and down excitedly at the door, thinking I'm going to let her back out. That I'm going to let her back out, as a wet dog, to roll into the death again.
In order to oil the hinges on the door, though, I have to open and close it several times. Each time I open, Lucy braces herself, muscles tense, waiting for me to give her the "release" command.
As I open the door I look at her. She's ready. Her muscles are about to jump out of her skin. She sees me open my mouth, words start to come out. Her muscles leap into action because the only plausible thing I could be saying at this point is, "Free." In the split second her body starts to move toward the door she hears, "Sit!"
So she starts to run backwards to sit down. Then I change my mind because her sitting there will be in the way so I decide to also say, "Go back upstairs!" This further confuses the dog, and we get into this little dance of me saying, "Sit! Stay! Go upstairs!" while opening and closing the door several times, and her little doggie body trying to respond, while at the same time trying to sneak outside before I holler another command. It was quite exasperating, but it seemed to help her dry off.
So we get to an understanding. Lucy is sitting by the door, not going out, no matter how many times I open that door. Then I slip outside to look at the hinges from that angle and she bolts out right after me.
Devil clean dog with damp fur ready to absorb dead animal guts!
Yes, Olivia is still asleep, and her bedroom is at the back of the house and she will probably hear me yelling, but I have to do it anyway.
Lucy races to the garage, her latest hangout, as there is a chipmunk that lives in the garage walls that is constantly vexing Lucy by hiding in them right as she's about to catch him. But she hears me yell her name and she turns around.
It's a doggie vs. master standoff. Her legs are spread, ready to run, I can see her little heart pounding at the exileration from escaping. She's watching me, waiting for me to falter. I stare her down. I say to her in a low voice, "Lucy! Come!"
She stares back, considering the distance between her and I. There is enough space, she decides. Without breaking eye contact, she drops one shoulder to the dirty cement, and then defiantly ROLLS INTO THE DIRT.
I race after her. "Lucy, NO! STOP!" As I reach the garage she runs around the car, now thinking that we're playing a game of chase. Eventually she bolts to the backyard, to the freshly laid, wet wood chips that JB put down last night (and where, I later realized, the dead animal remains must be).
Lucy is ready to roll and I'm ready to murder.
I guess I must have gotten my Dog Whisperer voice right because when I say, "Sit!" she does, and waits for me to scoop her up. Fortunately she did not get that dirty from rolling in the garage floor, so she did not need another bath.
Thinking that all is well, I let her shoot off into the house. She quietly disappears somewhere and I'm left with a few moments of peace to finish the project that I'm working on for Austin and Lauren's wedding present. Marian and I have put our heart and soul into this gift, and I was doing my final part, which involved writing something very neatly and beautifully in fancy script. I had written this thing out several times, trying to get it just right. I had finished what I thought was the final draft and went looking for it. I had asked JB to proofread it for me before I made it official, so I went to our bedroom to find where he laid it.
Lucy was already in our bedroom, perched on the very edge of our bed, looking out the window, on "Squirrel Patrol." She was perched on the edge of the bed, right where JB had left my beautifully written project.
And Olivia is sleeping in the room next door so I really shouldn't be screaming right now.
But really, dog, COME ON!
Fortunately for her, before JB left for work he said that I should redo the writing with a different font, so Lucy had not wrecked anything.
It is also fortunate that she loves my sleeping baby, and happily plays with her and lets Olivia pet her. So I will keep Lucy and not kill her. For now.