This weekend I learned a valuable lesson: sometimes it really is the best idea to listen to your husband tell you "no". Yes honey, I did just say that. No need to reread it.
Enter the dog in question, Milo. Or, Mort. I guess his name was Mort, according to his owner. She had found him in the snow in December, and was unable to give him the proper care since she was working so many jobs and going back to school. And, as we soon found out, for a lot of other reasons. She was going to give him to a shelter, but we said that if the dogs got along we would take him and give him a good home.
Sometimes I think we are too nice for our own good.
Mort is a 6 month old puppy. Adorable beagle corgi mix, just a little guy. When him and Bandit got together, they played for hours! We thought it was love at first sight. So we took him home. The next 24 hours were, well...PURE TORTURE.
He did not slow down one second the entire time he was here. Either running, yipp-yapping, tusseling, or all of the above...he didn't get that after playing for 5 hours it was time to take it easy. When we tried to force him to sit calmly with us, he was panting and struggling so much that we could not even focus on a tv show. When we put him in his cage he tried to bite and dig and yapp his way out, and when we put him in a puppy play pen 3 feet tall HE JUMPED RIGHT OVER IT and took off sprinting. Not to mention pooping in the house...we had our hands full, that's for sure. But we thought we would wait it out a day or two to see if he could calm down.
But then the cat came down to check things out.
One second everything is fine. Louie is coming up to check out the new pup. And the next second, the dog is lunging for Louie's face making a horrible sound, and Louie, confused, is trying to get out of there as fast as he can. If we hadn't been right there, Louie's face would've been bitten off and we would've had two dead animals on our hands. The whole rest of the night, Mort had vicious eyes only for Louie (and Reese too when she appeared).
By the end of the day I was literally hiding in our bedroom with the cats trying not to have an anxiety attack. We had no choice at that point but to call the girl and give the dog back. I felt horrible knowing we couldn't be of more help, and felt even worse that the mister had told me it was a dumb idea from the very get go and I ignored him. So, here it is....
My husband was right. 100% right. For now, we are a one dog house. And here it is, on the internet. For all to see. Sigh. At least the house is quiet again, for now.