Do you know that TV commercial that says, to paraphrase, “You love your children so much you could just eat them up. And some days, don't you wish you had” (now that I think about it, I have no idea what this commercial is supposed to be advertising, which I can only assume defeats the purpose of targeting your audience with a clever quote)? In any event, this sentimentality accurately sums up how I feel about our lovely
Beasts Bichons, Marshall and Max.
Since adopting our dogs four years ago, they have quickly turned our house into a home…a much dirtier and more disheveled home. Bichons, by breed, are supposed to be small, fuzzy, white lapdogs; eager to please their human companions. We apparently inherited the mutated gene pool of this charming set of characteristics. Marshall and Max are both well over 20 pounds (GIANTS in the Bichon family), love chasing balls, hunting (and even killing – yes, a story for another day) squirrels, barking ferociously at other dogs, and eating pretty much anything that is in within reach (which is not limited to actual food products and have included plastic bags, pollen, sticks, acorns, rubber toys, envelopes, and stickers much to Frances’s dismay).
And they are slowly destroying our house, piece by piece:
Their favorite barking spot in the den (above - we just had this painted a year ago), which is second only to the eagle-eye roost on our sofa:
Believe me when I tell you that the back cushion is permanently in the shape of Marshall’s lounging body.
My grandmother’s beautiful antique sofa – prime real estate for more barking if the den window sill didn’t satisfy all of those necessary urges. Please notice both the hole in the upholstery and the lovely claw marks on the walnut trim. Nice.
And I am not even sure what this is, but I have a sneaking suspicion it is a stain from one of Marshall’s coffee-drinking phases during which he would inevitably regurgitate his find on a piece of furniture (such as our NEW green sofa above) or Oriental rug.
While I know our house would be much cleaner and our furniture would be more in-tact, I wouldn’t trade our “boys” in for anything. Seriously. Nothing. They are free to the first interested party.
Kidding, of course. Frances and George would be heartbroken. They might be the only things saving the dogs at this point.