Mr. “B”, THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE

After being a bed hog all night long, a certain someone insists on jabbing a wet nose into my face each morning moments before the sun brightens the sky. This action elicits a moan as I roll out of bed and scoot to the door to facilitate the creature’s urgent need to pee.  Not the best sleep time partner, but this is how life is.  Just let me try to budge him off his bed. Ha, fat chance!

Let me introduce, Bailey an unusual Portuguese Water Dog, as most are black with dabs of pristine white, but his coloration is the color of snow with splotches of brown.

A loveable guy, smart as any, yet, a bully with an uncanny ability to tell time. A precise AM call to duty and breakfast, and later, at 4 PM sharp, a deep-down, guttural growl and quick to follow yap, remind that dinner is NOW.

Engaged in another task, should I forge ahead with the assignment at hand and ignore the command, a piercing, full-out bark fest ensues, comparable to a non-stop, siren blasting full-force into the ears.

Potty breaks occur randomly throughout the day and evening and don’t forget the occasional doggie snacks. No people food for a sensitive stomach doesn’t tolerate much deviation from the expensive specialty diet brands recommended by the vet.

Costly leather furniture designed for careful humans, not ripping, canine toenails, must be covered with mats that emit a slight spark when Mr. Bay is left unattended.

Not to be outwitted, the rascal learned to open the bedroom door, hop on the bed, toss every pillow to the floor, and snuggle inside the covers, as if to say, “I’ll show you who’s boss.” The room appears as if two raucous children got into a pillow fight. Guess I’m in need of one more stay away/keep off electronic device at the base of the door.

A muscular body rams baby gates until the bars give way. Free to scour the offerings of the office wastebasket, trash litters every inch of floor space. Argh! A disagreeable something soon becomes sickening piles of well, vomit.  Cleanup requires strong intestinal fortitude as I try not to upchuck myself, and add to the chore.  I’d rather muck out a horse stall.

Christmas, and can someone tell me how he knows which presents are for him?  Home alone, he tears the pretty papers to shreds, gnaws the boxes until his gifts are strewn beneath the tree, and should the contents be treats, I can expect a “gift” from him smack dab in the middle of the floor as he almost turns green from his gluttonous behavior.  This terror is similar to having a curious, crawling, left alone for a second, and getting into everything toddler underfoot.

For all the nuances, demands, and needs, I wouldn’t trade this adorable fellow for anything.

My boys’ soft wavy hair, not fur, doesn’t shed unless one happens to step on his poofy tail by accident which causes a jump, no yelps, and long silky strands to float through the air.

In a playful mood, hide and seek begins as he inches his 65 lb. frame behind a doorway or counter, and peers at me with the one eye which still possesses sight.

Older now, with a hip precariously close to popping out of the socket, toys are rarely attacked, but once or twice a night one is grabbed, shook from side to side, tossed into the air a few times, landing peacefully on the ground. After this display, bewilderment shines in his dark black peepers, or I should say peeper, and he stares at me, Okay, person, what do we do now?

With the sun dipping behind the mountains, our quiet time arrives; I plop into a comfy chair, and socked tootsies rub my faithful companion’s body in slow back and forth motions.

Petting an animal is a form of therapy, lowering blood pressure, and the mere presence of one provides comfort on a baser level according to Wikipedia;

Wilson’s (1984) biophilia hypothesis is based on the premise that our attachment to and interest in animals stems from the strong possibility that human survival was partly dependent on signals from animals in the environment indicating safety or threat. The biophilia hypothesis suggests that now if we see animals at rest or in a peaceful state, this may signal to us safety, security and feelings of well-being which in turn may trigger a state where personal change and healing are possible.

So, this is Bailey Boy, the oversized lapdog who I’m thrilled to have as part of my life.  Cisco, my now retired horse, must roam lush meadows or stay quartered in an accommodating stall, but at home, Bailey is my beloved. Well, not counting the man in my life.

Go ahead, share a story and picture of the babies who help complete your life.  I would love to see your snuggle buddy.