They never showed this part on Scooby Doo

I meant to write out the story of my weekend much earlier than this but as soon as it ended I sunk into a few days of much needed recovery and bed rest. I am of the philosophy that no experience is bad as long as you get a funny story out of it. I actually think that might be a family philosophy given that some of (most of) our memories would probably have shattered the very fibers of any sane group of people. Of course, this and this come to mind. So onward!

I was looking forward to a weekend taking care of both Calvin and his brother Tofu at my parents’ place so they had room to run and do dog things. Drop-off was scheduled for Saturday around lunch so why wouldn’t I come down with strepthroat on Friday? By the time I get to the house, I am so dopey and drugged up, I can barely keep myself house-trained let alone two puppies. Still, I convinced myself that they would both act like perfect lapdogs and keep me warm while watching movies hopped up on penicillin. I shudder while writing that very line because I now see how offensive a thought that must be to anyone who has actually done something like this before.

The first four hours were pretty painless. Calvin played the role of annoying little brother flawlessly by pouncing on poor, sad Tofu who sat whimpering by the front-door wondering why his parents were so cruel to leave him with the cranky, sick one. I can handle whimpering – I was doing quite a bit of it myself. My parents laughed at me, reiterating why they didn’t let me have a dog as a child AS IF I DIDN’T KNOW BY NOW, and then promptly left for a benefit gala downtown. Tofu immediately excreted his own weight in bodily functions. Fair enough, he doesn’t know where he is or where he’s supposed to go. While cleaning it up, Calvin decides that it looked like too much fun to ignore and does the same. He should know better…so I kicked him. Hard. In the face.

Okay, no I didn’t but I very much wanted to especially as these bathroom games continued until about 3:30 that morning.

Before she left, Kimberly and I had discussed that Tofu seemed to have figured out how to climb downstairs (an interesting feat for short-legged cocktail wieners) but she had never caught him in the act. After cleaning up someone’s mess (it could very well have been my own at this point), I noticed Tofu had climbed up four steps of stairs. When he saw me, he flipped on his side and rolled down the stairs to the floor. Mystery solved. I checked to make sure he still moves in the way he should – inside I’m hoping the you-break-him-you-bought-him rule isn’t in effect when I look up to see Calvin watching very intently with a mischievously wagging tail. Oh dear God.

I check for more accidents, wondering how a combined 18 pounds of puppy can produce so much excrement in such a short amount of time. In their eyes, I can see the conspiracy to break me. I return to the front hallway and once again give Tofu a good inspection before realizing I’m one wiener short.

“Calvin!”

Nothing.

“Caaaaaaaalvin!”

Jingle-jangle of dog tags then…nothing.

“CALVIN!”

Thump thumpety bang crash jingle jangle yelp bang bang thud thump thud.

My usually quite reserved and very breakable puppy hurled himself completely down the stairs from the top floor, hitting a solid roll half-way down before spinning onto the hardwood, cracking his head against the wall. Oh yes. House-breaking is such a terribly difficult concept to grasp….kamikaze attacks however, he’s a natural. I would have felt bad about it except he immediately got up, tail wagging, and went on the floor before running off happily.

The newf immediately walks in before heading out to a party, wonders why I’m shaking with nerves, and declares himself Saint Paul, Patron Saint of Puppies since they both go and nap on his lap – likely due to the brain damage of their stunts or pure exhaustion from excessive pooping. I immediately have eighteen aneurysms.

For the rest of the weekend, if I put Calvin down in the basement, he would dash off and have to be retrieved from the top floor lest he dive downwards. Believe me, each time I had to climb two flights of stairs to get him, the idea of just letting him do it became more and more appealing.

In all fairness, the boys were great for the rest of the weekend but the good times don’t make a very interesting story. I have only one piece of photo evidence of this though since I was crying and rocking back and forth in the corner.
Related:
NOR: Family
NOR: Puppy