Yes, I am Weak

Months ago, when we were in corporate housing, Tucker and Ziggy continued to live with my Mom.
This was a good news/bad news scenario.

The bad news?
Mom put all the weight back on Tuckey that I had worked so hard to get off his fat ass.
The good?
She broke him of “Baby”.

“Baby” is Tucker’s red ball.
He actually has three of them.
He is never without one in his big, wet, slobbery mouth.
The problem with “Baby” is that Tucker always wants to play.
He is a Golden Retriever, as Mike always says, “Stuck on retrieve”.

My mother has the patience of Job, so if she couldn’t take “Baby” anymore, then this was some serious shit.
One particularly annoying morning she rounded up all three and put them “away”.
Poor Tuckey, he whined and he cried for days but just like breaking a baby from a binky, Mom stood tough and didn’t give in to his pleas.
Those were trying times.

Once back home, Mike threatened the kids and I within an inch of our lives if we gave Tucker back his “Baby”.
Jordie and Nick were totally on board, as for me…not so much.
And here’s why.

I was the one stuck home with the cry baby all day.
The dog is bad.
He always has something in his mouth and the hamper, he thinks, is his own personal toy box.
Socks are his favorite; I can’t tell you how many socks a day I wrestle out of his nasty-ass mouth.
If it’s not socks, it could be a shirt or someone’s underwear, I’m not kidding, the dog HAS to have something in his mouth at all times.
He has caused us, as a family, many embarrassing moments!

Today…I finally hit my limit.
I had two choices; kill the dog or bring back “Baby”.

As you can see…Tucker is still amongst us.
“Baby” may be annoying…but at least I don’t have to pick her up and wash her, or fold her, or perform CPR on her (yes, Tucker did bring me a barely breathing baby squirrel one time!)

“Pick your battles” the wise always tell us.
Well Mikey will be home tomorrow night…
I’m afraid “Battle” is an understatement.
This just might be full out War.