Riley’s Tribulations

Hi friends. It’s been a ruff summer. There’s lots of fleas where I’ve been living with my Dad, Andrew. Dad had been working hard to get rid of the fleas on me with spray and a flea comb and had even put some top spot stuff on my back. That helped, but I still didn’t want to go in the house or the yard ’cause I was afraid the fleas would get me again. And with my flea allergy, even one bite turned into agony.

Amy the Enforcer decided to help me. She convinced my Dad (she’s his mom) that I should go on vacation to her house and spend time with Lucy and that dam schnauzer. The one that, when Amy brought her home, I cried out, “Oh sh**t! Not another schnauzer!” then jumped off the chair and ran into the bedroom. You know, don’t you, that Amy the Enforcer threatened to kill me with her bare hands if I ever hurt her precious schnauzer Lexi. That opened the door for Lexi to rule over me for years. And Lexi was never one to miss an open door. So you can see why I was so dismayed to see another one become part of the family. Uh, in case you are wondering, I had a DNA test, and I have absolutely no schnauzer in me. I am 50% pittie, 25% lab, and 25% mix of catahoola leopard dog, dog du Bordeaux, and boxer.

Jumping back to the here and now, the first thing Amy the Enforcer did when she got home and saw that Dad had, indeed, brought me here was reach into a box just delivered from Amazon and put a Seresto flea collar on me. Then I got banned to the garage for 24 hours until the collar had done it’s thing. Sure, she fed me and gave me water and walked me and even petted me. But it was lonely and I really missed my Dad.

Finally, I was allowed upstairs with Lucy and Xena. I haven’t seen Xena for a long time, and she seems to be pretty chill with me – well, at least as chill as a schnauzer can be, right? She doesn’t think she can boss me around, and seems to have forgotten that I deaded her favorite stuffie, that racoon, so I’m ok with her now. Lucy’s been her sweet self, welcoming me and letting me know she’s still my friend. We’ve even been playing just a bit. I do feel better now that the fleas aren’t still biting me, and will feel even better when I stop itching.

Then, the next blow (or cut) hit: my nails. I’m a fanatic about not getting my nails cut. I scream. I thrash. And I’m strong, yes very strong. A vet, 3 techs and Jeff all working together couldn’t hold me down to cut them. My nails have gotten very long because I’ve stopped chewing them. I heard that’s a bad habit. Amy the Enforcer said I had to have my nails cut before the dew claws grew into my leg, and she was just the little lady to do it. I thought, “Sure, lady, just try.” Wrong attitude. She dragged my 70 pounds into the bathroom, plopped me into the tub and got the bottom of the tub wet. Then she started cutting. I tried to scream but she gave me “the eye.” I tried to get away but the bottom of the tub was too slick. I started to lift my lip in a snarl to try to scare her but she is one tough cookie. She took the leash off my collar and tied it around my nose and neck, and I couldn’t open my mouth. Just a precaution, she said.

My nails are still pretty long, and I’m glad. Amy the Enforcer said the quick had grown out, which means it would have hurt and they would have bled if she had cut them any shorter. She did get one dew claw to bleed, but I don’t think she meant to. I licked it for a long time afterward and got some pity steak scraps. Not sure if it was worth it, but the scraps sure were tasty. I overheard her say that she will take a quarter of an inch off every week I’m here, and the quick (the hurty part) will recede. Umm, Dad, when are you coming to get me?