To compensate, I've done some very creative and different things for Thanksgiving, from potlucks with friends to frisbee and a Thanksgiving spread on the beach in Malibu my first year here in CA. This year, I agreed to help a dear friend. Nadine and her husband were going back to Ohio to spend Thanksgiving with John's family, and she needed someone to watch the house...and be bossed around by one very large and spoiled dog.
Meet Bailey.
You're probably thinking he looks pretty innocent, but he's a 150 pound Great Dane-Mastiff-Pit Bull mix with a jones for doggie treats every 30 minutes and the ability to train people to bend to his every whim. Nadine and John have 2 other dogs, which were staying in the kennel because they're a lot to handle. Bailey is special, because he had a stroke about a year ago and is just now completely getting back to all the things he used to do. Because of that, Nadine preferred not to subject him to the stress of staying away from home, so I got to dog sit. In exchange, Nadine left me a complete turkey dinner in the fridge, and I got to spend 4 days and 3 nights parked in front of John's 62" hi-def TV watching NHL on the Fly and re-runs of cable movies. I think I got the better end of the deal.
Little did I know at the time I accepted the job, but Bailey did not plan on letting me lounge around on the couch. My job, as I quickly discovered, was to wait on HIM.
I arrived Wednesday afternoon after work to get instructions on the care and feeding of Bailey. It seemed pretty simple:
- Feed him once in the morning when he gets up, and once in the afternoon between 4-5 PM
- Several scoops of dry dog food in the morning, then the same amount of dry or 1/2 can wet food and half the amount of dry at night
- Refill water throughout the day as needed
- Make him go outside and pee before bed
- Any other time he needs to go out, he'll stand by the back door
- Small treats whenever during the day
- One major treat after dinner every night
So Nadine and John left, and things were fine with Bailey and I until it was time to go to bed. Nadine let me know he normally comes upstairs and sleeps on the doggie bed next to their bed, where I would be. As I got ready for bed, Bailey parked himself by the window next to the front door...and pouted.
I couldn't get him to come up the stairs on matter how hard I tried. So I left the hall light on and figured he would make his way up eventually. Not a chance. I knew he was looking for Nadine, and I felt inadequate, knowing there was nothing I could do to reassure him and we would just have to make it through the night the best we could.
He started barking every 20-30 minutes until 2 AM. If an ant moved outside, he barked. I know he was thinking that movement had to be the sound of Nadine and John's car. Bailey stayed downstairs. I got no sleep.
The next morning, I came downstairs around 6:30 am and let him out. He seemed happy to get some food, and I gave him a treat, hoping it would cheer him up a little. Then I went to Starbucks for my breakfast sandwich and coffee. I sat down in front of the TV to eat it, and Bailey sat in front of me, staring as I took each bite of my sandwich. I gave him the last bite because I felt guilty. I think he smirked a little.
Then I thought it would be fun to take some pictures to e-mail Nadine, to show we were doing OK. This look pretty much says, "Look lady, you seem nice and all, but you're not my real mom. I'm going to tolerate you because you're feeding me, but we're not best buddies. And please stop coughing on me...you look sick."
A little while later, I'm taking a nap and feel a paw on my arm. Then a nose in my face. Then a howl. I slowly got up from the couch, thinking Bailey needed to go outside. I opened the patio door, and he stood there. I walked outside to see if he would follow me. He sat down facing the fridge, which is next to the door (and the treats are in the fridge). I walk back to the door. "Do you need to go out Bailey?" Silence, chops licked. "Do you want a treat?' Tail wags. I open the fridge door, and produce a treat, which he inhales, barely chewing. I walk away and he follows me. I sit down on the couch, and he sits in front of me. His paw comes up to rest on my arm. I shake his paw. The other paw comes up and I shake that one. Repeat with the first paw, followed up a "woo-woo" howl and a head turn back to the kitchen. I get up, go back to the fridge and produce another treat. BIG MISTAKE. He has now trained me to produce treats on command, which I continue to do every 30 minutes, until Mom and Dad get home.
NOW we are buddies. And I am Bailey's slave. Who says dogs aren't smart.
And my turkey dinner? He got some of that too.... Happy Thanksgiving!
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