Naughty Daisy Dukey

We watched this little stinker for a week:

(A reminder - she's my mom's doggie.)

Daisy's favorite napping spot - on Dylan's backpack:

She's so weird.

Usually, Daisy is very well-behaved. It's like she isn't even there. She is very cat-like. But dang, she had some issues while we were watching her this time.

Issue Number One: She barfed twice within the first hour she was at our house. She was not happy about being left with us. I had to clean up her barf and her little beard. Ga-ross.

Issue Number Two: It rained most of the week she was with us. She is scared of the rain. She follows me around, shivering uncontrollably. No amount of cuddling or kind speaking will bring her out of her terrors. And then she drools all over when she's nervous. More nastiness I had to wipe off of her little beard. Double gross.

Issue Number Three: She wouldn't go down my back steps. I had to pick her up, walk down the steps, and deposit her on my grass.

Issue Number Four: She decided that the couch, a.k.a. Pregnant Kar's Bed, was HERS. Not mine. She would settle right on top of my legs every night, and I have restless legs syndrome sooo badly. She would NOT move, and my legs would just fidget and fidget. Which obviously kept her awake. We made each other miserable. I transplanted her several times to the equally comfortable Big Green Chair, but she would always come back. So I didn't go to sleep until about 4 a.m. every night for a week.

Issue Number Five: Peeing in my house when she is mad at me.

Daisy takes great pleasure in running away when you let her out to go pee, so you have to watch her like a hawk. Then, if she starts straying into another person's yard, and you yell, "Daisy! Come on!", she pretends she can't hear you. She just stands still and stares at you. So you have to go all the way over and pick all three pounds of her up and carry her back into the house.

So, there were like two nice days while she was staying with us. On the first nice day, the older kids were at school, so I decided to take Mikey outside and do some gardening. I brought Daisy out with us. She peed like ten times - a few drops per spot she needed to mark (even though she's a girl. I totally don't get it), and then she started running away. I did the compulsory, "Daisy! Come on!", got The Stare, had to go retrieve her, and decided to keep her inside while I finished planting my marigolds (which are still terribly angry at me for introducing me into the cold, cruel world of my yard).

She was standing there at my front window, indignantly scratching at it, and I was like, "No way, dude. I'm not going to keep chasing you out here. I have other things to do." When I finished my planting, I came inside, and the mean little fuzzbucket had peed, right there under my window. It was a total Angry Pee. And it was a really big puddle. Apparently she holds all this pee inside to use as her Angry Pee arsenal?? Because she never let out that much outside.

So I swear a few times and clean it up. "This is why I don't own a dog," I mutter to myself.

The next evening was gorgeous. Ben and the kids were playing in the front yard, and I kissed them and headed off to work. When I got home, Ben mentioned that he had to put Daisy inside, because she kept running off, and that she was indignantly scratching at the window while he and the kids were playing. I told him I had been through the same thing the day before. Ben had left the front curtains open, so I went to close them. And I stepped right in a huge puddle of cold pee. In the same spot. Right under the middle window.

This is the second time I have stepped in something that has come from the inside of Daisy's body. Let me remind you of this lovely incident.

So I swore like six times and cleaned the dang puddle up. "This is *&^$% why I don't own a #@^%$ dog!!" I yell.

I texted Dad that night. (They were in Cancun. Sooo jealous.) I said, "Your dog peed in my house twice today." He wrote back. "I'm so sorry. I'll bring you back a present."

They did. It is a beautiful black necklace. Just my style. It made me feel a little bit better.