Yorkie-Poo

As an alpha dog, I am here to tell you that being the leader of the pack is not all it's cracked up to be.  Remember when Scott bought that cute little Yorkie-poo?  I don't know much about the "Yorkie" portion of her name, but I know A LOT about the "poo" part.  I'm the alpha dog, meaning that Prestie only comes when I call her, follows me around all day long and is accustomed to me being the one trying to train her.  Scott tries, but he's just not alpha dog material.  And the kids?  Let me just tell ya, buying a pet in order to teach responsibility is a load of crap.  Literally.  Kids have to go to school.  So it's all me.  Unfortunately, I am not a dog whisperer.  I'm more of a dog yeller and curser, especially when I find little Prestie-poos on the carpet.  When those little brown indiscretions happen, it seems like my whole life has become a massive joke of a failure.  Conversely, when Prestie does her thing outside, I feel absurdly joyful, like I am the luckiest girl in the world.  It's ridiculous!  Internet research notwithstanding, I am the worst dog trainer ever!  Have you seen the dog owners on America's Funniest home Videos?  They're definitely not the best and the brightest, yet they're able to train their dogs.  I must be incredibly stupid, and I just don't know it.  Kinda like Prestie, but without the cute, tangerine-colored eyelashes.

Yesterday, after an incident in Ari's room, I was so enraged, I offered Ruby a trip to San Francisco if she would sell Prestie.  San Francisco!  It was like temporary insanity.  Thank heavens she said no because even with the proceeds from the puppy, we would have to send Ruby on the trip by herself in order to afford it.  Of course, instead of selling her, we could send Prestie with Ruby to SFO and hope she got run over by a cable car.  (The dog, not Ruby.)  It's something to think about, anyway.  Scott almost got run over by a cable car in Vienna right after we were married, and he's much more cognizant of traffic laws than Prestie, so it could happen.

While we're saving up for the Trip of Death, I am trying out a new technique.  Prestie is on a leash with me at all times, except when she's outside or in her kennel.  That way, she can't sneak away and do something naughty that ruins Golda's expensive scale book or Ari's homework.  In a twisted, canine version of Stockholm Syndrome, I am growing to love Prestie by having her tethered to me.  She's soft and fluffy and tenderhearted.  She yelps when she gets scared and hangs out under the high chair for scraps.  She is funny and playful.  Next thing you know, I'll be sending videos in to AFV of Prestie saying "I wuuuv woo!"

I wuv woo too, Prestie!

The Preston Plague

For the grand finale of our two-week vacation, we went to Grandma and Grandpa's cabin in Idaho.  It was relaxing and wonderful...for a few hours.  This look on Jakey's face was the first foreshadowing that the Preston Parade wasn't going to go all that well.  It started out with hot foreheads all around and ended up with me crouched on the ground in "child's pose" retching into the weeds halfway between Logan and Brigham City.  And I wasn't the only one who cut their trip short due to the Preston Plague.  Quite a few of us headed home early, carrying buckets.

The whole parade was a blur of flying taffy and trips to the Arctic Circle bathroom.  That's the bad news.  The good news is that somewhere in the midst of all that revelry, The Best Dad in the World got suckered into buying a bargain puppy for the kids!  Normally, buying a puppy is ranks at the bottom of Scott's to-do list, right under having his fingernails pulled out with pliers.  But there was something about little "Preston Marigold Cutie Ellison Scotty Dopp's" face that made him fall in love a little bit.  I think it was the way she batted her ginger-colored eyelashes and snuggled up to Scott's chest.  Or maybe it was Ruby's look of benevolent pleading.  At any rate, Scott said there was no way he was ever going to buy a puppy, then waved me on ahead with the kids.  Freestone and I, on a mission to buy cotton candy, hid behind a tree to watch the transaction take place.  We saw Scott talk to the owner, hand her the cash and lift the puppy out of the box on the sidewalk, cradling her in his arms.  We followed him as he strode carefully down the street with a smile breaking his concentrated look.  We watched as Ruby spotted him.  Her whole body filled up with joy and she ran, carrying Ptolemy, toward Scott.  I swear, her face was glowing from the inside.  When Golda saw what was happening, she burst out in tears of happiness and covered her face.  Scott handing over the little puppy to Ruby was one of "those" moments.  His eyes were teary, but his smile was wide.  Once in awhile, there is a moment that you just have to grab, or the magic is gone.  Scott knows how to recognize those moments and go for them.  It's just one of the things that makes him a great dad.

There are other things that make Scott great, like cleaning kids' throw-up out of the car's drink holders and staying up all night with a crying puppy.  But those things aren't quite as magical!