Cash – the dog, not the money

A few months after we got married, Joel convinced me to buy a doberman.  I was hesitant because those dogs get freakin’ huge.  In October of 2008, we brought home a beautiful puppy who was the cuddliest creature I had ever seen.  I nervously allowed him to sit in my lap from the 2 hour ride from Nashville, all the while trying to figure out a name for this baby pup.  My best friend, Jill, came up with “Cash” after Johnny Cash.  He’s our own (not so little) “Man in Black.”

And most importantly – he loved ME more than he loved Joel.

Our first night home

And why shouldn’t he?  At the time I was home with him all day since I was in graduate school full time.  I was the one who loved on him, played with him, trained him, fed him, etc.   I was the one who terrorized him into never peeing on the floor again.  I also taught him that humping is bad.

Soon, Cash became to love and adore Joel more than ANY PERSON EVER.  It hurt my pride just a little bit, even though I know that dog loves me an awful lot, even if I am 2nd place at my house.

Cash rocks because he knows not to get on the rugs at our house.  What other dog obeys this well?

I brag on my dog to now say this: we used to be able to trust Cash to be in the house while we were gone for any period of time.  Only in the past few months has he freaked out about being left alone.  His freaking out usually consists of finding something we’ve left on a table nearby and putting it on his bed with him (which is in our living room).  We started putting him in his kennel all day – which isn’t inhumane even though he’s 70 pounds because the kennel is HUGE.  It was the largest one that would fit in my Camry.  Seriously.

Yesterday I left him in “his room” aka – the laundry room.  I didn’t realize that Joel planned to  leave him in there all day.  Normally this wouldn’t even matter, except that yesterday he freaked the freak out.  He went bonkers at some point in the day, because when I came home around 4:00, my clothes (which at 7:00 were piled nicely next to the washer) were covering every inch of the floor except near the door where I had to push clothes out of the way to open the door.  There were bloody marks not only on the floor BUT ON MY KHAKI PANTS.  Then it was my turn to freak the freak out.

Thank heavens for Shout Advanced.  It is a miracle worker.  It looks that maybe after two washings the dried blood will be gone.  Although I was a little disappointed to not have a reason to go buy new pants.

Later that night, Cash and I made up.  I can’t be mad at him for long.

Such innocence

Last night, he loved me more again.

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