Naptime Monologues: Where the wild things are...

My house...that's where they are. Yes, anyone who knows me well knows that usually you can find a multitude of wild things within my four walls. It's how I roll. Not talking about kids here, but the things that walk on all fours, slither, sniff, poop in boxes, shed, bark, meow, tweet, growl...ok, maybe kids could fit into this category as well. Needless to say, we tend to be a shack for homeless pets. Bless my poor husband's soul! In my defense, he knew full well what he was getting into when he married me...keeping my not-so-small menagerie a secret is no small feat! I remember cringing the first time he came over to my tiny apartment in college...greeted by a senile, drooling golden retriever and shrieking jack russell on a pogo stick, only to be scampered over by two frisky felines as they perfected their hunting techniques across our laps during our first snuggles on the couch. I thought he might run in terror from the creepy cat lady that had turned at such a young age, but to my surprise he came back...and kept coming back! He has drawn lines, and it is only due to his efforts that we are "limited" to 3 dogs and foster cats only. Still doesn't keep me from pleading for the next homeless soul that limps our way. He is just really good at saying "no" or ignoring me. :)

Truth is, I adore my husband and my children come second to no one, but life wouldn't be the same without my managed chaos. It would be too quiet and un-hairy. What fun would that be? Tucker is my old man and has accompanied me through most of college, into and out of relationships, into adulthood and marriage and, reluctantly, into motherhood. He is not fabulous with the boys, and he would rather hang in the quiet solitude of the laundry room, but when he is subjected to their innocent torture, he makes a lot of noise about it, but wouldn't dare leave a mark. He would never admit any amount of fondness for the rugrats, but when he doesn't know you are looking there are stolen licks and moments of sweetness...might just be the leftover peanut butter talking...

A much younger X-man sharing a treat with Tuck

Tanner is truly J's dog...he LOVES J. Everybody else is just a major annoyance that takes time from him and his person, but he tolerates our existence, and we love him for that. He is a very stately, handsome fella, and J affectionately muses how he wants to make slippers out of him when he dies because his coat is so soft...don't worry, Tanner, I won't let that happen! He is our alarm and is very watchful...we must have a 100 cars drive by our house every day, but if one pauses slightly longer than normal at the intersection or goes in reverse instead of forward, he will let us know that something is fishy. He considers it his personal duty to perch on our bed so that he can stand watch...peering out our front window as the world passes by.

Last, but so far from least is Stella. She is our newest member after joining us in January. After watching the boys run poor Tanner and Tucker through the house, and witnessing such worry, anxiety and in some instances, just plain fear from the poor beasts, I thought we should find a canine friend that would welcome the boys' rough-housing. My lovely husband finally agreed (thank you, J). I can say, despite the headaches that come with canine adolescence--chewed up shoes (or more often in her case, shoelaces), piddles on the floor, over joyous greetings that tend to knock guests on their rears, the desire to wrestle with any willing counterpart virtually 24 hours a day--I am thankful every day for her presence and undying love for those boys of mine! She is exactly what I was hoping for in a companion for them. She almost seems to welcome their abuse. They climb on her, pull on lips, push on noses, stick fingers in ears, run through the house with delight luring her with the last bits of their gummy graham crackers before they shove it in their mouths, leaving not a morsel, yet she adores them with every fiber of her being. The second night she was in our home as a nine month old 60 pound puppy, our greatest struggle was keeping her out of X-man's room where she so longed to snuggle with him in his bed. Today I wouldn't hesitate allowing such a sleepover, but at the time, she was still a stranger to us and I didn't trust her to remain accident free (both of the pee and mauling-a-small-child variety). And, how Gokey adores her...he knows no fear when she is by his side...I love that she has taught him such confidence around animals. He has been trampled, knocked over, whacked in the face with an exuberant tail, but he takes it all in stride. I continue to marvel at what she puts up with, which isn't even the right description, because she doesn't "put up" with it, she loves it! I can't tell you how many times I have witnessed Gokey sticking his fist in her mouth trying to grab her tongue or remove an ear, only to lose interest, walk away and then be cut off by Stella who is begging for more "attention." I have never seen such a masochistic dog, but I wouldn't trade her for the world!