"Daddy, there are too many dogs at my house," I announce on our semi-daily phone chat.
He paused for a minute and replied, "That is a sentence I never thought I'd hear you say."
It feels like a kennel here at Casa Critical Mass. I have my usual crazy complement of four and have added some to the mix. I must have lost my mind!
Scout the Golden Retriever is making a guest appearance while T's parents finish up their last month in Colorado. He is old and slow, so he doesn't require much work, but he is the size of a Shetland pony - I have tumbleweeds of Scout-colored fur blowing around the baseboards to prove it! He's been here for almost a month and may be staying well into October. Not a hardship as I am his favorite person in the world (much to Grandma's chagrin!).
We also have Bun's dog, Lucy. I promised to take care of her months before I knew Scout was coming to stay. Lucy is a spastic little Golden-Greyhound mix. Sweet and well behaved, but very high strung. She is the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak. The other dogs are laid back and lazy and Lucy gets them whipped up into a frenzy. She's not doing anything wrong, but she has tipped the scales on the rest of the dogs behavior.
With SIX dogs in the house? Every bird is barked at. And car. And neighbor that dares to leave his house. Every lap is competed for. Has your lap ever been the field of battle between 200 pounds of Labrador Retriever? With a little fat pom vying for your shoulder at the same time? Every kibble is scarfed up. In record time lest any of the other dogs try to get a bite in edgewise. Every surface is covered in fur. My Dyson can't keep up!
And the backyard? A minefield of dog bombs. Blarg.
Ah, but when they are all sleeping peacefully around you, you can't help but love them.