We’ve had our newest addition, “Sierra Rose” for three weeks now. I am sleep deprived, witnessing the sunrise each morning as I stumble out of bed to let her out. She wakes up around 6am and starts nuzzling against my face as I lay on my pillow in dreamland. I used to wake at this hour all the time, but I’m retired now and I like to get up a little later. I can no longer make it to watch late night TV with this new schedule. The shift hasn’t been that easy. I haven’t seen Letterman or Leno since she arrived. I miss them.
My arms look like I’ve been in a cat fight with 5 or 6 vicious felines. Cuts here and there from her little teeth thinking she is playing and that I’m having fun too. Yoo Hoo – this is called blood… NOT fun you little dickens.
We have band aids in every room of the house and on the back porch. We have a variety of chew toys – ropes, tires, squeaky animals, nylabones, balls and kongs. And treats – lots of treats for praise. She can sit and she can stay, and come here on demand, but… come evening and it all goes out the window.
For some reason between the hours of 5 and 8pm she gets all wound up and wants to attack, bite and chew everything in sight. She puts a whole new meaning behind the word frisky. What is this? She is no longer adorable during these hours. She is a four legged pain in the ass with lethal teeth.
Then all of a sudden, she winds down, the dust settles, the chaos ends, and she crashes out on the floor. She becomes adorable again, lays her head on my feet and just like a dog… she changes everything!