Destructive Diva and Her Posse

Kids

They’re funny creatures.  Sometimes, I’m a little jealous I must admit, of their ability to let their minds wander to far away places that we, as adults, would never even contemplate.  Other times, however, I find myself scratching my head and thinking, ‘Man…I never thought I’d have THIS conversation!’

Case in point:

This morning, while soaking up what teensie weensie bit of sort of, kind of tolerable, not quite death-inducing humidity we had available to us at about 7am.  Yep, this is what it’s come to here in Missouri….desperate attempts to absorb a little Vitamin D by staying as still as possible and pretending it’s enjoyable.

Anywhoo, as we were outside, me on the porch swing checking emails and 10 and 5 playing with our dog, Indy, I made my way inside to grab another cup of sustenance.  I mean, coffee.  No, who am I kidding?  I mean sustenance.  This post is all about honesty, so let’s just throw it out there.  We all know I BLEED coffee.

As I returned to the front of the house, coffee in hand, I found the kids with the front door wide open, both with a look on their faces that told me something was up.  There was an idea stirring about in their tiny heads, and my stomach got that feeling that says, “Oh snap.  What did you guys do NOW?”

Thankfully, they hadn’t done anything wrong, yet.  In the approximately 47 seconds it had taken me to meander through the house, fill my cup, and return to my place of origination, though, they had apparently had just enough time to concoct an extremely whimsical idea that left me thankful that I hadn’t decided to use the restroom or anything during my brief jaunt in the A/C.

‘Mom,’ 10 says, with that slight whine in her tone that tells me I should brace myself on the nearest piece of furniture.  ‘I’m just letting Indy look around, and showing her the inside of the house from here.’  Upon further inspection, I realized that not only were both kids standing there in the doorway, but Indy was there as well, standing on my entry rug.  She had a look on her face that was obviously unsettled, and her stance told me she knew full-well she shouldn’t be in the house.  She looked at me, her brows crinkled down, and I could tell she was thinking, ‘Do I stop and play dead? Stand very still and hope she doesn’t see me?  Do I stop drop and roll? Hide under my desk and cover my head?  Which one of those emergency drills am I supposed to be doing right now? ‘

What 10 said next left me scratching my head.  ‘Mom,’ (again, the slightly whiney voice that implies, If I word this just right, and use just the right tone, maybe she will go for it) ‘Can I just bring Indy upstairs for a minute and show her our bedrooms and bring her right back down?’

OMG. Is she serious?  Indy stood there with an anticipation in her presence.  She doesn’t speak English, I’m nearly positive based upon our previous encounters with even the simplest of conversations like, “Stop eating my flowers, DAMMIT!”  However, she could tell something was up, and maybe it was BIG!

Let me just clarify why this is such a pie in the sky request.  THIS is Indy!

She is a two year old Rottweiler mix.  Actually, to be more specific, she is an adorable sweetheart stuck inside of the body of an elephant with fur.  She doesn’t realize she is a hog, and therefore it’s sort of like living with a bull inside of a china shop….ALL the time.  She has accidentally knocked 5 down with her butt upon making a sudden and unsignaled turn.  Yep, this girl needs blinkers on stalled on her butt. 

When we adopted her, we were told she was a Border Collie mix.  We were assured that they KNEW the mother, watched her be born, knew for sure she was a Border Collie mix. The small amount of tan on her made us think she was part German Shepherd.  We walked into that shop, just to look (isn’t that the way it always goes?) and 5, who was 3 at the time, walked up to a pin of puppies.  This puppy walked right up to him, turned her nose down and pushed her little bitty head right up to the cage at his face and peered her brown eyes up at him.  Then, she raised her paw and put it into his hand. 

That was it.  It was true love.  Border Collie/German Shepherd.  We could do that.  It could work.  Outside, of course, but they are both highly intelligent dogs….so win/win.

It was 4^th of July weekend, so we named her Indy for Independence Day and everyone fell in love.  She chewed up the drywall in the garage, but we forgave her.  She ate everything BUT the toys we gave her, but she was cute, so we let it slide.  She would go outside and refuse to poop, just to walk right in and poop on the garage floor.  But, again, she was cute, sooooooo……..

And then….she began to grow.  Her body lengthened and her coloring changed like one of those little 2” square washcloths that you buy at The Disney Store.  You put them in water and slowly the open up and reveal the design that was tucked neatly into that tiny package.  YUP, that was our Indy.  She was growing, unfolding, and turning into one ENORMOUS washcloth! 

As her head shape changed, we kept looking at her thinking ‘Where is the long skinny Border Collie nose?’  And then, it happened.  Her chest began to get more broad, and then her head followed, and before we knew it we looked at each other and said, “That is NOT a Border Collie!”

Yep.  We got bamboozled.  She’s a Rott.  A sweetheart, and a wonderful guard dog…but a Rott.  Once, she picked up a piece of 14" firewood and carried around like it was a tiny stick.  She was completely offended that I wouldn’t throw it for her to fetch, for fear of breaking a window or killing a passerby.  This girl is hard-core. 

Exhibit A:

As I imagined her rummaging around with her porcupine needle claws on my beautifully stained hickory stairs….or even worse, her big dopey self taking a nice little roll around on my white carpet….I must have had a look on my face that said, “Over my dead body.”

I simply raised my hand, as if to shoo her out, and Indy turned and walked right back out the door, disappointed little face drooping toward the ground. 

I could read her mind as she pouted her way back outside.  ‘Damn.  I thought that was gonna work this time. ‘  Even her cutest Puss In Boots doe-eyes cannot convince this mama to let that Neandrathal into the house. 

If it would just rain, perhaps she would see her reflection in a puddle like Bambi after the winter.  As he looked down at his own reflection, he saw antlers and realized that he was a big buck now.  Yep.  Little does she know, she is not a lapdog, and a lapdog she will never be.    Tazmanian Devil, that’s  more her speed.  Tazmanian Devil, with a heart of gold, but an inability to control her path of destruction.

That’s my girl.