Damn dog

For those of you new to the blog, we have a dog, a shih-tzu named Hopie.  She’s 8 years old and we got her the weekend after we buried our first daughter.  She has helped me through some really dark days, as cheesy as that sounds.  She’s usually a great dog, except for when it comes to the children’s things.  Not the kids themselves…their THINGS. 

Hopie allows the kids to pull her ears, her tail and squash her (as long as it’s HER kids…not anyone else’s mind you, she will growl!).  She’s accepting of new babies and will lay beside them quietly protecting them.  But their stuff, ugh.  When Kenna was a baby Hopie would eat her pacis, which was ok since Kenna didn’t use them.  Now, Hopie pees in Kenna’s room, just for spite I swear to God.  We’ll take her outside a million times a day but she’ll come right in an relieve herself in Kenna’s room.  I don’t know how many puddles we’ve cleaned up (and by we I mean Sean).

But the boy…the boy’s things have been different.  Yes, we’ve lost about 20 pacis to Hopie again, but Jay uses his so it’s frustrating that I have to buy new pacifiers all the damn time.  She’s chewed the bottle of gas medicine to bits, she’s torn into diapers…the list goes on.  But what takes the cake, she gets INTO the diaper bag.  Yes…she will open the bag and pull out whatever she wants to tear up.  Last night was a tube of formula, one of those that you tear open and it makes a 4oz bottle.  Yeah…she ate it.  And she took out the formula container that I take with us and the paci wipes.  I swear, I will have to now put the diaper bag up on the counter so she won’t get into it, since this is not the first time (the first time was the gas meds!).

And she knows the did wrong. When I see it and walk to her, she cowers down and gives me the most pitiful look ever.  I swear, it’s like having 3 kids!