Let's start with the hair. Hair. Is. Everywhere. In, on and around everything. It is Dante's Inferno of dog hair. As soon as I vacuum, mop and swiffer, there is more. They don't call them German Shedders for nothing.
This is Roman's favorite window to bark out of. Notice the dirty scratch marks on the left and the lopsided shutters (what you can't see is the dog snot on the glass, and the chipped wood and paint on the sill).
More of above window. I came home recently and the left side was torn off. I've tied it up and we now have a nice, white trash look to the living area. We've tried different barricades and booby traps to no avail. Roman is a 'don't fence me in' kind of guy.
Stains on the hardwood...'nuff said.
Ripped curtain. Probably happened when he saw a dog outside and attacked the window.
Spazzing out in Erik's room. Luckily, Roman is really not much of a chewer.
So, yes, my dogs are not perfect specimens. Would I rather have a clean, undamaged house? Well, yes, I would like a clean, undamaged house but if it meant I couldn't have dogs....forget it. Life wouldn't have much meaning without these furry, devoted friends, wagging at my feet. No matter what has happened in my life, my dogs have always been there to share in my joy or lick my tears. Their commitment is steadfast; their love (yes, I do believe dogs feel emotions), pure. Now, as someone said, if I can only be as good a person as my dogs think I am, my time on earth would be well spent.
And Tikka? What are her faults? Well, she doesn't do much, really. She's clean, obedient, and doesn't damage the house. On the other hand, she becomes Cujo when faced with dogs five times her size. As my friend, Susan, said, "Angela, we have to think of these dogs as special needs, and they came to us for a reason." (all of our dogs have come from rescue or the pound) So, I am probably not going to have a 'normal' dog in this lifetime...but I will have lots of nice pictures of my dysfunctionally wonderful dogs at the beach.
