The Happiest Bad Dog in the World

This was Ziggy  the first day we  brought him home. He was so little and cute!  He learned his pecking order quickly and still knows it.

He has grown into a lanky jumping gazelle with a Tasmanian Devil twist. Who needs a garbage disposal with Ziggy around? Not us! He's eaten flip flops and shoes. He's eaten tubes of  tooth paste,  at least a dozen potatoes three onions and at least three loaves of bread. Three remote controls, two razors and my sewing kit full of pins and needles (and lived to tell  the story). He's eaten at least three books...the latest was one my sister loaned me.

My sister came by  tonight while I was at work to pick up her book and posted this picture of it on her Facebook with  the caption "Got the book back I loaned my sister, if anyone wants to read or chew on 'The Chaperone' just let me know."

I called her when I got home from work and said not to be mad at Ziggy, I think he read it to Ham because Ham can't see. Ziggy's just a helper, plain and simple!

When we all have to leave the house for more than ten minutes, we now leave him in a crate we borrowed from a friend. It's saved what is LEFT of my house.

He's not crazy about it yet but doesn't go bonkers. We put his dog bed in it and he caught on quickly. He hasn't peed or messed in it, which is more than I can say for the rest of my house and as you  can see the crate is big enough to leave Zach in there with him too!

Ziggy is a pest, especially to Ham and Charlie.  I know it's just because he is still a puppy but keep waiting for  the day I walk upstairs to the spare bedroom where we keep  the crate and find Ham and Charlie have crawled inside the crate and pulled the door shut just to get away from Ziggy.

Then there is the fence issue at  the back of our yard. In the summer the woods grow through the hog wire staked up at the back of the yard. In the winter, the brush dies and Ziggy discovered the hog wire fence. It's only about four feet high and Ziggy can easily jump over six feet with little effort and amazing agility. A creek runs behind the fence and sixty  acres of woods beyond that. Squirrels, rabbits, foxes and deer are constantly on the other side of the fence just begging Ziggy  to come and get them...and he's all for it!

Zach and I spent over an hour today reinforcing the escape route. It lasted thirty minutes before Ziggy  found a weak link.

So he's a bad inside dog and he's a bad outside dog... and I still love the the little sh*t. Even my sister, who came by  to pick up her destroyed book told me "That's the softest, cutest, happiest bad dog I  ever met."

My nephew taught the little dummy how to shake on Christmas Day and now he shakes every time he wants something or simply wants attention. I was eating a grilled cheese sandwich today Massey made me. I was sitting on the couch in the living room and Ziggy came up to me , sat and lifted his paw and placed it on my knee as he sat drooling at my sandwich. I was getting  ready for work and had a glass of iced tea on the floor beside me while putting on make up...looked down and Ziggy  was lapping out of my glass. I popped him on the head and he sat and shakes his paw at  me...like he had forgotten to ask and felt bad about it.

Call me crazy, you certainly won't be the first but I love my pups.  I love the deaf one, I love the blind one and I even love the bad one. As bad as Ziggy can be...he loves me. I come in the door from work  and he is the first  one there! Ham comes next because he's slower now that he has to navigate his way.  Charlie is always last because the dummy can't hear or maybe like my kids simply refuses to listen.

Here's the  thing. If I am wiped out from working weeks in a row they will all climb in bed with me and not move til I do. They know when to lick my face and they know when to keep  my feet warm. They know when I am depressed and never leave my side. They never ask questions ...heck they never ask for anything but always seem grateful just for a pat on the head or scratch on the belly. They are my buddies, worth every penny I spend on them and worth every thing I have to fix (Mainly Ziggy on this one.)

My sister is having to  put her male boxer down soon ...like hours away. It's killing her and I remember feeling the same way with my boxer Rosie. (his sister)

If I'm lucky,  all my kids will live longer  than me. My pups won't. They may have wrecked my house but they never wrecked my car. They never ask for one thing but always seem  grateful for ANYTHING.

When we had to put Rosie down it was horrible. The only thing good about it was she went peacefully in our home, thanks to a friend from the humane society. My sister called my friend and are going to do the same with their boxer. Let him stay home and drift off in a familiar environment.

So I am a crazy dog loving person. I can think of a lot worse things to be.

When I totally lose my mind  and bodily functions... when the end is near, I want someone to come to my house  and simply give me a shot. I'm gonna save this woman's number. So what she does it for dogs? If I'm gonna go anyway, what do I care the shot was meant for dogs? Sounds easier than the Kevorkian way and cuts down on the legal battles.

How come people who can be so rotten live to be ninety plus and dogs who are great even when they are bad like Ziggy only live to be thirteen if they are lucky?

That's messed  up if you ask me.

This is Boss, Bear is on the left and also left us way too early. Yep, my sister's dogs were escapees too.

I am pretty low maintenance. I don't want to be in a nursing home but would prefer to GO at home.

Til next  time...feeling for my sister and her loss of the wonderful "Boss Man"  COTTON