The Dog.

So we have this dog.

She’s really sweet and great around the kids and smallish and never makes a mess in the house.  She’s very calm and doesn’t eat much or chew anything.  She’s older, which is probably a contributing factor to her greatness.  If I could choose a dog, she would probably be it.

But she’s got us trained.  And we haven’t even had her that long.

Last fall, some friends of ours were in the process of moving and (to make a somewhat convoluted story short) couldn’t take her with them.  We offered to dog-sit while they were moving and… we just sort of… kept her.  Largely because the kids fell in love with her and I just couldn’t say no.

And she really is a great dog.  Really.

But she won’t go up the stairs by herself in the evening when it’s time to go to bed.

Maybe she has an excuse.  We have hardwood floors, even on the stairs. One of the first nights we had her, she was on her way up the stairs, when she slipped and literally tumbled tail-over-nose back down to the bottom.  She got up and shook it off, but being the Mommy that I am, I scooped her up and comforted her.  Then I carried her up the stairs to go to bed.  BIG. MISTAKE.

Now we have to carry her up the stairs every night.

Do you ever find yourself doing something that you’ve been routinely doing for awhile that really doesn’t hurt anything or anyone and think to yourself, “If anyone ever saw me doing this on a regular basis, I’d have a lot of explaining to do”?

That’s how I feel about having to carry the stupid obviously incredibly intelligent dog up the stairs every night.  Really, though, it’s the lesser of two evils.  If we don’t carry her up when we go to bed, she’ll eventually decide that she wants to be upstairs with us, and start barking.  Now, if she was one of my kids, I’d be all, “You have four perfectly good legs – figure it out!”  However, all of this barking is likely to wake the kids, and it’s easier to just go down the frickin’ stairs and carry up the stupid smarter-than-I-am dog.

I’ve even tried to teach her a lesson train her.  I’ll bring her up about halfway, set her down, and continue on my way.  Once or twice, she’s started on her way up, but slipped and fallen.  All the way back down the stairs.  And I swear she does it on purpose.  She’s probably all thinking to herself, “Hey, this worked that one time! If it ain’t broke…”  Other times, she just barks some more.  I don’t want her to wake the kids, so I go get her and bring her up.

Here’s the thing:  I know she can do it.  There have been times when she was downstairs when I left for work in the mornings, and, when I come home for lunch, she comes downstairs to greet me.

It just INFURIATES me. I mean, I have a four-year college degree. I’ve trained entire roomsful of teenagers to do exactly what I tell them. 

And I can’t get the stupid, manipulative dog to go up the $%@)!(* stairs.

So every night, when we get ready to go upstairs, I gather up stuff – my iPhone and cord, my Kindle.. and … The Dog.

Ugh.

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