My Parents' Dog is Retarded: An Odyssey

Recently my parents got another dog after being without one for almost two years. Our previous dog was an epileptic Jack Russel Terrier with a serious attitude problem. But this dog was VERY smart and when she felt like she wasn't getting enough attention, she would proceed in entertaining herself by ripping up tissues or tormenting my mother for fun. Well... our new dog... Lemme give you some background on this...

This all started back in March. I have nannyed the same set of children since I was fourteen. In that time, their family has experienced the death of a very elderly Shi Tzu, the mystery of their gigantic cat who only liked me going missing (we believe he had a run in with a coyote... poor baby :c ), and the arrival of a half-starved kitten in the tree in their front yard approximately two days after the oldest child was told she could bring home ANOTHER cat. Their luck with pets is odd. So when the youngest had her ninth birthday in March this year, she decided that she wanted a puppy. So what did they do? They had a Shi Tzu puppy shipped in from Washington state and gave it to her for her birthday.

Now I don't believe in giving dogs as gifts, especially to children. Children cannot comprehend the idea of a dog being another gift of life like themselves. They cannot comprehend that this "present" will live with proper vet care for an upwards of ten or more years. They just don't get it. So when the little one got her puppy, she was naturally excited but the novelty wore off by June. Guess who was stuck taking care of the dog? Me.

Now I was not upset about this in the very least. I was actually pretty happy about it. He looks like a tiny Ewok from Star Wars and he's very snuggly and cute. I love him. But he's retarded.

It started out that I would come over during the day when everyone was at work or school and I would take him for a "walk." Now I am using the term "walk" loosely here. It was more like I would put a leash on him and drag him down the street while people in the neighborhood stared at me in horror thinking that I was abusing this dog. The truth of the matter was that he was so stupid that he did not understand the concept of WALKING. Honestly this would be a lot more funny with illustrations.

Anyway, so I would drag the dog up and down the street encouraging him to go potty. And of course he was like "Herp derp! But I crap on the rug! That's my potty! DERP!" -_-

I did eventually get him to understand the concept of going to the bathroom outside. But this was only for me. When I was not there, I was told that he would still potty in the house.

Me: "Well how often does he go out?"
Them: "Oh I dunno. Whenever we remember to."
Me: *facepalm* "Well he's only a puppy. You should take him out every two hours to be safe. And make sure you use this special cleaning stuff on your carpets so that it gets rid of the pheromones so he won't be even more encouraged to go to the bathroom in the house."
Them: "OKAY! Derp!"

Well, no one followed my instructions. Now I've grown up around dogs. We've ALWAYS had a dog. I actually spent most of my childhood interacting with our psychotic Jack Russel and other dogs because I could not understand the concept of interacting with other children. (Most of the pictures of me in my parents' photo albums are of me with that dog.) The dogs weren't able to make fun of me for reading. I also worked for PetSmart for a while in their PetsHotel caring mostly for the dogs and occasionally the cats who were crazy and hated my guts. During "play group" the dogs would "argue" with each other about who was going to sit on my foot. Even the most neurotic and emotionally scarred dogs were happy to be my new best friend. So you could say I know a lot about dogs. I know what they're going to do before they do it and I understand why they do these things.

Well, the family continued to not follow any advice I gave them.

Me: "Here. When you mix up his food like this, he'll eat it. Here try it."
Them: "OKAY! DERP!" *does not follow directions*
Dog: *refuses to eat*
Them: ???
Dog: *eats the cats' food*
Them: D:
Me: *facepalm*

When the kids got out of school, we commenced our normal summer time routine. I would come over in the morning, wake the kids up, walk the dog, feed the kids breakfast while they were still comatose, pile them in the car and take them to swim practice, come back to the house and snuggle with the dog, pick up the kids, walk the dog, break up fights between the kids, walk the dog, play with the dog, play a board game with the kids, read my book with the dog in my lap, walk the dog, etc. etc. It was a lot of me walking the dog. And when I would ask the kids to walk him they would whine and drag their feet, take him out and as soon as he peed a little bit on the bush at the front door, they would bring him back inside. The novelty had worn off for them.

July rolled around and the family went on vacation, leaving me with the dog and two apathetic cats. I decided that the dog would stay at my house and I would come over during the day to feed the cats and clean their litter boxes, give love and attention, and then go home. At first my parents' weren't exactly enthused about the idea of the dog coming to stay for a week. The death of our psychotic Jack Russel a year and a half before had scarred my dad for life and my mother just didn't want another dog. My dad especially resisted and started to mope the closer we drew to bringing the dog into our home. I have to admit that I did not know how to feel about another dog either. The Jack had been my companion for almost fourteen and a half years and I have to say that even now I am still not over her death. But I brought the little Ewok home anyway.

The first night he was in our house, my dad looked at him with disdain. My mother was apathetic. My boyfriend and I started off by playing with the fuzzball in the living room. We threw his stuffed toy back and forth, but the dog got confused and started to bark at the ceiling fan.

Dog: *barks at ceiling fan*
Me: *facepalm*
Boyfriend: *facepalm*
Mom: "OH MY GOD! He's so cute! I love him!"

My mother thought his stupidity was adorable and immediately grabbed him and started to cuddle the dog. I was horrified. I had seen stupid dogs, but this dog... I tried telling myself that he couldn't be that stupid, I mean this is only one instance of extreme stupidity. At least my mom liked him.

The next day, the dog pulled his bed out of his kennel and slept in my dad's office for the whole day, guarding the stairs, and freaking out when anyone left the house or so much as went into the bathroom with the door closed. (Seriously, this dog has a fit if you go into the bathroom and close the door like a normal person.) My dad cracked and fell head-over-heels in love with him.

That night at dinner, the dog entertained himself with a shadow on the floor.

Me: *facepalm*
Mom: "OH MY GOD! HE'S SO CUTE! WHAT A SMART DOG!"
Dad: "I love him! He's such a fuzzy little bastard!"
Me: *fighting off a brain aneurysm* "I think he's retarded."
Mom: "Oh no! Don't say that! He's very smart! What a smart doggy!"
Me: "Mom he's barking at a shadow on the floor."
Mom: "He's still only a puppy."
Me: "Daisy was inherently smart, Mom. She was smart from the beginning. This dog... is retarded."
Mom: "No he isn't. He's still only a puppy."
Me: *facepalm*
Dog: *chases his tail, catches it, and barks at it*
Dad: "HE'S SO CUTE! BEST DOG EVER!"
Me: *twitches*

Don't get me wrong. I love this dog. He's a sweetie. He's just retarded.

After the dog went back to his family, the problems started. He had been on a strict schedule while in our home and the stress of going back to a place that was often complete chaos was shattering to him. The family complained that he was weird. Then finally the father announced what was so obvious: He didn't think they had the lifestyle to care for the dog and he wanted to find him a better home. Also, he didn't want to be bothered with caring for him.

My parents offered to take him and that's how he ended up at their house. I currently live about four and a half hours west of their home and I'm going home to visit this weekend. But the other night I got a call about the escapades of the dog.

Boyfriend: "Your parents' dog is retarded."
Me: "Tell me something I don't know."
Boyfriend: "Well tonight when I went to visit your parents' house, I walked in the door and the dog didn't understand the concept of who or what he was supposed to protect."

The dog had ignored him at first, not registering a new person for about five minutes. When my mother brought it to his attention, the dog ran to my boyfriend, growling and snarling like all hell. When he got to him he flopped over on his back and begged for his stomach to be rubbed. Then he proceeded in barking at our dining room chandelier. Then he humped his teddy bear for a while. Then he stared at the floor for a while.

Yeah my parents' dog is retarded. I'm the only one besides my boyfriend who seems to see this. *facepalm*

 UPDATE:
My mother called me today to tell me that the dog pranced out of the bathroom today with the toilet bowl brush in his mouth. That thing is as big as he is.