So. All of you know The Bestest Dog I am sure.
We now have another one. A dog dad adopted. He used to come to our kitchen door while dad cooked in the morning and wait on the porch where he could see Dad. Dad fed him. And called him Tonga. Then Dad put a collar on him and vaccinated and all that and gave him to my aunt but my aunt left the country so Dad took him back.
The first few months were difficult. He had this crazy amount of energy in him still being a pup and all that but he never seemed to run out of steam. He could go nowhere walking. He had to run. Race through the flat knocking things to the floor. He would stop dead in his tracks if he found an interesting slipper. Or The Bestest Dog. Then he would start biting her , pushing her, demanding she should come play. Sometimes she would comply, and they would go out together raising a lot of dust outside, rolling in the mud, The Bestest Dog playing mummy dog and Tonga being the spoiled brat of a kid !
Dad’s immensely proud of Tonga.
But here’s the thing. While The Bestest Dog is calm and collected and matured , Tonga is bat shit crazy. He eats everything, but very little. He sleeps on dad’s bed when dad’s not around and when I scream and try to pull it out of the bed, he stretches and digs his claws deeper into the mattress. He follows Dad everywhere and is extremely curious. While the Bestest Dog lies on the floor in the kitchen waiting for dad to finish cooking, or sleeping in the living room waiting for dad to finish watching a movie, Tonga is interested in knowing how dad cooks. His eyes move from side to side following hand movements and facial expressions. Also it can’t keep still. He nibbles on your slippers, your feet, your chair, your carpet, your bedsheets, your phone, your boyfriend and his shorts, anything goes.
My biggest problems is in the morning when dad wakes up. Both the dogs wake up and the first thing The Bestest Dog does is to come to my room. She doesn’t wake me up though. She lies down near my bed and waits for me to wake up. First hugs advantage. But then comes Tonga racing in. He half climbs in chewing the bedspread , the pillow, my hair, my hand , my toes. If I fight it off, he takes that as in invitation to play. One morning I found it curled up near my face waiting to pounce. I’ve learned to lie still. He gets bored and walks off , trying to wake The Bestest Dog. She lies very still too. and it goes off looking for dad.
When my mother comes , she gives Tonga one look and the dog is tamed. She didn’t raise spoiled kids so she’s not happy with this one but is very happy to blame dad for it. Dad agrees with my mother that the dog is indeed very spoiled but has the nerve to look incredibly smug.
I personally just want it to grow up a bit.