Two Dog Night

We’re babysitting our neighbors’ dog while they’re away until Christmas; sometimes you hear people say that having two kids is easier than having one (and sometimes, like when Mimi and her friend, Ani, are hunkered down together, each in front of a computer screen, it’s true), but the canine reality doesn’t follow from the human, at least not in this case.

Our dog, Becca, is something of an instigator, a troublemaker of sorts; she listens only inconsistently, and is easily distracted from heeling or staying by even the mere whisper of another dog in the vicinity. Add to her a fulltime housemate, in the name of Digger from next door, and you get an animal that requires its owners to arrange a suite of chairs around the Christmas tree to keep her from destroying the lowermost ornaments if not topping the tree altogether.

Both dogs apparently see dead people—or perhaps they smell them; in any case, countless times every day one or another of them will suddenly rear up from a supine position and begin barking wildly for no clear reason. I’ll open the door and look out; there won’t be a person or dog in the vicinity. Is it a ghost? A faun? Santa Claus in his sleigh?

And why didn’t they act this way when the thief crept into our yard last year and stole my bike?

Walking two dogs simultaneously is something of an adventure, so much of one, in fact, that I avoid it at all costs if I can. Several times, however, there has been no way out of it and I have the experience being a cartoon character yanked in several directions at once but with the added feature of two plastic bags full of dog poo.

On the plus side, we don’t ever end up with dried up crunchy pieces of uneaten dog food in Becca’s bowl; two dogs may not be easier than one, but they sure are hungrier.