We have a sweet new doggie. Bourbon. Olde English Bulldogge. He needed a new home because his last family had a little boy with terrible skin allergies. He couldn’t live with them anymore. And a bulldog? When my husband is a huge bulldog fan? It was kind of a no-brainer.
Did I mention how cute he is?
I wonder, though, if bringing him home was a good idea. Sweet though he is, he has certainly wrought changes to our life. Perhaps the most drastic is that we no longer see the cats. He tried to eat both of them. There was a very traumatic experience for the Peach that has left me with a scar on my right forearm. And the Blackberry doesn’t come out of the laundry room. Peach’s experience led to her pissing all over the bed and in the closet. So trauma there.
And he has intimidated my sweet Cobbler. She is afraid to eat when he is near. Which is to say nothing of the brawls that happened with Mac at Gumbo Acres, meaning that if we want to go out of town, we have to find somewhere for him to stay. *sigh*
Then there’s all the dog piss to clean up. Sure Cob peed on the rugs every now and again. But it’s gotten worse. Our house now smells like animals live here, and that drives me insane. I need to figure out how to fix that. I can’t stand walking into a house and be hit with that pet smell. *sigh* I’ve got to work on being more diligent about the febreeze and perhaps some plug-ins. I’ve got a couple of odor absorbers out there. I’m not sure what else to do.
He seems like a happy dog, which makes me think that we did the right thing in bringing him into the family. But he’s really disrupted the lives of our other, older family members. I’m not sure how I feel about that as they’ve been here longer. I suppose that it happens every time you introduce a new member of the family…there’s some friction and some discord…but dang. I wish this were going much more smoothly for all of them.