We are a heaving house of hounds at the moment. Everybody is on their holidays and everybody has left their pooch with us, because we treat them nicely and let them stay in the house. We now have everybody's pooches in the house. The house is saturated of pooch.
I am getting ready to take Dolly, Smudge and Fluff out for a walk. Together. I have become each of their replacement 'go-to' person. They are each lovelorn and competitive for my affection. Particularly Dolly and Smudge. Dolly sniffs Smudge intently when I am stroking her, as if to find out what she has that Dolly doesn't.
When I am cooking, one or other of them will come and sit by my ankles, facing out into the room, defying any other pooch to come near. Molly meanwhile is in full tilt nervous breakdown mode, very very dramatic. Tiny tiny pooch and her whole body heaving.
Molly, Dolly and I went running last night. Molly got very very excited and passionate and then it all got overwhelming for her and she started to snarl and nip at Dolly. Of course Dolly wasn't keen on any of this shit at all, and snarled back, and looked at me like, do something.
They all look at me like, do something. When somebody comes into the kitchen, there are usually 3 expectant dogs, staring at them, saying do something. When they hear a vehicle driving in, they all bark, do something.
So I am the one they have figured out is their best bet for long walks in the tall grassy wildish fields around here, and they are all keen to be my favourite. This morning, I felt that I had an inkling of what it might be like to be Hugh Hefner or somebody, with all these small pooches vying with each other for my affection and attention, sniffing each other's arses for hints and information, before nudging the other one out of the way and placing their head on my leg.