Lowered Expectations...

I have two dogs. Buster Brown and Bailey Ann Leeman. My mother tells me that Leeman and Brown cannot be their last names because they should share my last name as they are my family. I told her that I do not understand her logic as they are dogs and while I love them as much as I love Emma, they are not legally required to share my last name. PLUS, I don't know who their fathers are AND it's not even my fault.

That has nothing to do with my story but my mother also told me several times that it is nice to share. Anyhoodilydoodily, my two dogs are like children to me. I check on them several times a night, even though they now sleep two floors away; I worry about them when they're not acting like themselves, I call my family to share stories of things that they have accomplished or ruined.

Buster is the oldest of the two. He just turned six on February the 3rd. Buster is a Miniature Pinscher with stinky stinky breath and a bad habit of eating any and everything that is on the floor. He was once severely obese, a 250lb 17 year-old, the vet said. Buster is a dog's dog. He may even believe he is a human, I'm not sure. All I know is what I have observed and that is that he LOVES other dogs and quite possibly could be some kind of dog pedophile. He tries to get all other dogs to touch his doo-dah. If he were human, they would have thrown him in jail for the things he has done. As his mother, I'm embarrassed and ashamed of his actions, and I don't know what to do about it...

Bailey is a Chihuahua or a chicky-how-uh as Cabria says. Bailey is the complete opposite of Bust. She is not a dog's dog at all. She doesn't like dogs or people. She doesn't like much of anything except for her toy monkey who is purple, has no eyes, ears or arms and has recently been de-furred and gutted. It now looks like a rag with legs. Bailey carries this thing EVERYWHERE and guards it with her life. She has two tents and two beds that she has decided are hers alone and she will not let Buster near them. She runs from bed to tent to tent to bed trying to keep her territory safe from enemy infiltration.

I feel bad for Buster. He loves other dogs so much and all he wants is a dog friend to run around and get into mischief with. I bought Bailey in hopes of filling this void in his little dog life but as you can probably tell, the plan was a complete failure.

Shortly after I realized that Buster needed companions and Bailey was not cutting it, I decided to take him to dog day care. I found one near my work that only took small dogs and the cost was a reasonable two dollars per hour. I called and enrolled him for every other Friday. Knowing Buster's history of irritating other dogs, I liked the idea of all small dogs. I could just imagine him stealing a Rottweiler's bone and coming home with one ear less than he had when he got there.

Fridays came and went and Buster attended his dog daycare and loved every minute of it so much that he cried ALL the way home every time. He started to hide when I would come to take him home. He was in heaven there!

He had attended five or six times without incident and then one Friday, when I arrived to pick him up, he was not there. I asked after him and, no joke- they sent all the dogs outside so they could talk to me. They brought Bust out from a backroom; they told me that they had to kennel him for the day because he had caused quite the upset.

"Buster is a bully." The Dog Teacher began. It only got worse from there.

Apparently, he had stolen toys one at a time from smaller dogs and hid them throughout the play area. With each toy he ripped from the tiny teeth of the other dogs, his confidence grew. He then started to take the toys from dogs his own size and larger. Pretty soon, the dogs were in an up-roar (haha). They began chasing Buster around the facility. He LOVES to be chased so I can only imagine the joy he must have felt at this moment (I smiled at the thought of this and Mr. Woof stopped talking and gave me a stern look. I quickly changed my face to 'serious' and told him to go on.). Buster must have been really excited because he stopped and piddled on something. This was the turning point, the point in which the dogs took control and the people could do nothing but watch and wait....

According to the teacher, there was a dog riot and Buster was the 'ringleader.' Because Buster was ahead of the group when he stopped to potty, all the other dogs followed suit. Chaos ensued. They all began urinating in the same place as he had and then everywhere else. Once the people were able to catch Buster and kennel him, the other dogs calmed down.

As Mr. Woof was telling me this story, I couldn't help thinking about the fact that I pay these people two dollars per hour to care for my dog. Two dollars an hour for my special little guy's happiness. Two dollars an hour for his social well being. Two dollars an hour because I love him so much... Two dollars an hour every other Friday and they kennel him for the day because he stole a few toys and tinkled here and there?! What do they expect? This is a dog daycare for goodness sake!

Finally, I blurted out, "So, you couldn't have just called me eight dollars ago when this took place?"

The man's eyebrows furrowed then and he asked that I not bring Buster back to their facility unless, by some miracle, he learned to behave. He rarely goes on tirades like this at my home. I decided to point this stat out as I was leaving, only it didn't come out very eloquently.

Instead I yelled, "THANKS FOR NOTHING!" as I slammed the little gate shut behind me.

Silence followed the two of us as we slowly and sadly walked to the car. Buster cried all the way home again that day but this time, I think he knew he wouldn't be returning.

And so ended the days of doggy daycare.