Jackson, Day 2: All Your Stuff Are Belong to Me
I don’t remember falling asleep, but I’m startled awake by the sound of sequential peeps. Still fuzzy, it sounds like the smoke alarm. In reality, it’s Jackson, announcing that the sun is about to come up and demanding to be let out of the cage.
It takes a minute or two for muscles to work, especially after sharing the sofa all night. Brother and Sister have switched places, and she’s draped out over top of me. I don’t know why I’m trying to ease out without waking her. The entire time, Jackson is peeping and whining. I talk to him in reassuring tones, all the time asking myself why a puppy instead of a nice adult dog that could hold its bladder a little longer. When it’s light, I send my dogs outside, and then return for Jackson.
Still not fully awake. It takes too long to match the leash’s tiny hook with the collar’s tiny ring, and…too late. I laid down a pee pad to soak up the stain and took Jackson outside for his first walk.
The big dogs do their best to ignore him at all costs, and the only place he wants to be is between my feet.
Back inside, they continued to ignore the interloper while keeping an eye on him. I resisted the urge to go back to sleep, and instead grabbed a cup of tea and retreated to my office to check email. It wasn’t long before Brother ran in and jumped up on me twice, upset. I followed him back to the living room to see what was happening. Everything seemed normal — but I got the message when Brother hopped onto the sofa and did his tightrope-along-the-back move.
Brother has a treasure trove where he drops all the toys. It’s in the two feet of space behind the sofa where the tables don’t meet. The only way he can get there is to drape himself over the back of the sofa and pour himself down into the space, then grab a toy and jump back over the sofa. Sister, who won’t even climb stairs, won’t go there, so they’ve been safe so far. But now…there’s trouble.
Jackson was very happily scattering Brother’s treasures around the living room. All he had to do was walk through the end table, then between the legs of the sofa table, grab a toy and repeat to appear on the other end. I couldn’t help but laugh as he trotted back and forth, each time emerging with a toy almost as big as he…the unstuffed moose, the tennis ball, the squeaky squirrel.
This is all too much for Brother. He looks me in the eyes and lets out a long, low, breathy whine. He can’t ignore the puppy now, but still doesn’t want to acknowledge him. Before I can do anything, Jackson emerges with the Red Bobo*. Brother’s Sacrosanct Red Bobo. The only toy he’s allowed to hog.
It’s longer than the puppy’s body, but he proceeds to “murderdeathkill” the Bobo right in front of Brother. For a split second it seems that Brother might return the favor, so I stepped in and took it away. It wasn’t easy. Jackson had a death grip on the thing.
When I finally got it back, I offered it to Brother. He turned his head away. I squeaked both squeakers in it; still no response. I put it next to him and yes, he flung it onto the floor. Unclean!
Bobo Usurped!
I let Jackson continue his raiding. They’d have to learn to share eventually. Plus, he was bringing out toys I hadn’t seen in a year, and for some reason could never find whilst cleaning.
*What’s a Bobo? Click the graphic below or this link to find out. (Didn’t that guy used to be a Power Ranger?)