So yesterday was Bob's made up 8th birthday. Made up because he's rescued and we don't know the exact date of his birth. But by the Delaware Humane Association's estimate, he was born close to Thanksgiving 2009.
We just got back from the long drive from Michigan after spending Thanksgiving with my parents. Over these last six years, my mom and dad have not been terribly impressed with Bob on our visits. He let loose his inner beagle and howled pathetically if I went out to see friends and left him in this unfamiliar house. He pestered visitors to distraction. He plied his awesome counter-surfing skills (see earlier post). And yes, once (ONCE! In 6 years!), he pooped in the house.
I always took it personally that they would criticize my dog. Well, it wasn't that much of a stretch to take it personally when they said "Oh Good Heaven's Carol, do something about this dog!" It's not like he was attacking or drawing blood, or even destroying the baseboard (which my brother's "perfect" dog did due to separation anxiety). He's just being the friendly, feeling dog he is.
Well, this year my parents admitted he's a good dog. He didn't stop howling or pestering or counter-surfing. He just stopped sooner than in the past, before it became a real annoyance. I assume this is a matter of just getting older and not having the energy to keep fighting for whatever you think, or thought, was important. And in the #MeToo era, you're deemed OK as long as you stop before you become a real annoyance.
"Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History"
Good Lesson. Thanks Bob.
