Welcome to the barnyard …

my house. It’s definitely beginning to feel like a barnyard.

My parents have a dog name Colonel. He’s a mutt, probably part chow and part golden retriever. He’s 14 years old and getting feeble. He’s very sweet but a bit skittish. Several years ago, across the highway from my parents’ ranch they were doing seismic testing. It sounded like my parents were being bombed. And Colonel decided they were being bombed. Ever since, when a storm comes up, he trembles and shakes, his teeth chattering, and does serious destruction around the house unless crated. Well, Colonel has been visiting my house this week while my parents went out of town. Of course, we already have two dogs and a cat. Our dogs have really enjoyed having Colonel. They all know each other. But my cat, Miracle … she has not been a very nice hostess. She is only six pounds and is also declawed but she doesn’t hesitate to take on this 50 lb canine. She has cornered him a couple of times, and Colonel has cowered. Pretty pathetic. Anyway, it’s been an interesting week, juggling food bowls, opening and closing the back door a thousand times to accomodate all the potty schedules, dispensing treats and medicines. But all in all, we’ve enjoyed having Colonel with us. But every time we leave the house for school or the many kids’ activities, I have to crate Colonel because we just don’t completely trust him. And we don’t want any serious damage done to the house. When I grab his halter, he falls over like he’s dead and sticks his feet straight up in the air. So I’m learning to outsmart him by leading him with a treat. Since an old dog can’t be taught new tricks, I’m having to teach myself. But I’ve been thinking more and more about that puppy craving I have. Hmmm… puppies don’t sleep the way old dogs do.

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