If you've ever tried to feed four dogs at one time, then you can skip the first part of this post. If you haven't, my advice to you is to refrain from attempting it. Figure out the square root of negative one or something but do not try this. With two Labradors and two smaller black dogs, one of which eats like a Lab and the other a finicky eater, well you have the recipe for a disastrous feeding hour. Labs 1 and 2 ate their dinner no problem, in about 20 seconds. As I go to fill Finicky's bowl, Lab 1 (mine) pushes her snout in it and I have to hold her back with my knee while Eats like a Lab seizes the opportunity and moves away from her bowl to Finicky's bowl, which of course allows Lab 2 to make her move to Eats like a Lab's bowl. I grab collars and move Eats Like a Lab back to her bowl and Finicky back to hers while using one knee to hold back Labs 1 and 2 and foolishly trying to open the garage door with my elbow so that Labs 1 and 2 can get in the house and let the others eat in peace. That's when I tripped over Lab 1 and fell on the garage floor. But the good thing about falling is that it got all the dogs' attention for the split second window that I needed in order to get the door open and Labs 1 and 2 in the house. I put them in the back yard and returned to the garage to see Eats like a Lab happily finishing the remainder of Finicky's bowl contents. *Sigh* Tomorrow morning I’m going to approach this from a different angle. I’m going to measure out everyone’s kibbles and put everything in one big bowl, and then I’m going to dump that bowl into one pile in the yard. Help yourself dogs!
I did title this post with disasters plural didn’t I? The next disaster is all Finicky’s doing. When I got here, this house was spotless, and by spotless I mean that it was sparkling, eat-off-the-floor clean (not that I would, understand, but it was that clean). And within two minutes, while I unloaded my bag from the car, Finicky had brought a stick in the house and before I knew it, she had walked around while chewing and gnawing and tearing that stick into unrecognizable bits of stick. And the floor became something you wouldn’t walk on barefoot. Stick bits everywhere. And by everywhere, I do mean all over the friggin place.
Lastly, also to be filed under disasters, is my brilliant notion to take the cover off the patio table and chairs. The cover has been there a while, I assume, because there were fairly large pools of water that had accumulated here and there. Obviously it was doing its job to protect the chairs from the elements. But, sadly enough, not from me. Although I tried to approach the task systematically, I failed miserably, and while pulling the cover off, managed to soak myself. And the chairs. And all four dogs. So, all within an hour’s time I’ve managed to fall down, to likely starve one dog, to get the patio furniture wet, and to get this previously sterile floor covered in bits of sticks and semi-muddy paw prints in all sizes and strides. I'm sure I'll never be asked to care for the dogs again but the real burning question is when is the cleaning lady coming again?