You know our dog, Otto? Yes. We go way back...
Jonathan's parents gave him Otto as a puppy, Christmas of 2005. Their family dog (also a bichon) was very elderly, and Jonathan and his brother Matthew were both out of the house and ready for puppies of their own (Matthew and Kelly have Otto's sister, Maggie).
Otto was a college dog for a while, hanging out with the guys, and then when Jonathan did his student teaching and started working in the banking world, they lived with Jonathan's parents and Otto "trained" their new bichon puppy, Abby.
One of the very first dates Jonathan and I went on (12/2006) was to take a walk in the snow with Otto and Cleo (my parents' dog). However, we dated long distance for most of my relationship, and while I loved Otto, I only got to know him so well.
Fast forward to July 2008 when we were married. Otto? Yeah, he liked me, but Jonathan was his best friend. We had one car for a while and everywhere we went, if Jonathan had to run into a store or pump gas, Otto would FLIP OUT that he had left the car...yes, even though I was still in there.
He cuddled with me on the couch and I took him for lots of walks (and some unsuccessful jogging) and he was very happy when I bought him his first doggy bed. However, he probably wasn't thrilled that he didn't get to get up in our bed (like he would have with Jonathan). I worked very hard at cutting his hair, which was good because he had a hard time at the groomer and we saved money, but was bad because then
I was the hated hair-cutter. I was working 3 jobs and Jonathan was in school and working, so he had lots of time all to himself at home, but he was also by himself a lot.
Then along came a move, then a baby, then a toddler and a baby together. Plus old age! He turns 8 in October. He incessantly barks each time our garage door opens even though he knows it's Jonathan each time. The kids love him and we still like cuddles and walks with him, of course. His breath is awful and there seems to be no solution. It became so hard for me to leave home with the kids all ready when I had to put him in his kennel upstairs (where he was comfortable) that we moved his kennel out of our bedroom and downstairs so that it would make life a little easier. He is generally sweet and let's us know when he needs something and wants to be around us in general. He is a LOT to pay attention to and handle while trying to be a mother to two active little ones. He's an excellent "vacuum" with two messy eaters at our table. Phew. Do you see the frustration here? I love him, but he is a little handful (and I know some of you reading would steal him a second, but sorry, no chance!).
So, last night he woke us up, yipping and whining, about 4 times in 6 hours. Jonathan let him out 3 times. Annalee randomly woke up screaming at 4:25 (teeth, maybe?) and I ended up feeding her until 5am. Needless to say, when everyone was up at 7:30, Jonathan and I were exhausted.
The day went fine and I let Otto out about 3 times across the morning. Jonathan came home for lunch and then had to zip out back to work. I was upstairs with both kids and got Connor down for a nap, and went to bring Annalee back downstairs for a bit. I stopped dead when I saw a big dark spot about 2 stairs down...yep...Otto pee. There was a puddle there, and on the next step, and drips and trickles down the ENTIRE STAIRCASE. Ughhhhhhh. I called and called for him and he hung his tail between his legs, knowing he did something bad. I clipped him to the line outside our door in case he had any more to let out and started blotting each stair (while peeking in on Annalee being wild in the living room). I was surprised that I hadn't heard him whine at the door so I looked out and saw his line...with no Otto on the end of it.
"Otto!" Silence.
"OTTO!!!!" Silence.
"OTTOOOO! COME!" *Jonathan's family whistle* Nothing.
Then I called Jonathan, frantic (oh yes, I had already called him, fuming about the pee spots), and he said he was on his way home.
I decided that would take too long and what if he got run over?! So made the worst choice ever (debatable) and went up to Connor's room.
"Con?" Opens his eyes.
"Connor? Mommy can't find Otto. Can you please come get in the stroller to help me find him?" At which point my sweet sweet two year old sat straight up in bed, spit out his paci, and rushed to the door saying, "Connor awake! Connor awake! Where my pants go?!"
Hahaha...I could have cried. We quickly got everybody dressed warmly and into the double jogger and off I jogged. We went a couple blocks, turned a couple corners, and what do you know, I spotted that little fluff ball at someone else's front door.
It took one time of calling his name, and he came bounding over to us. As I scooped him into my arms, I thought, "
Dumb dog well at least he doesn't hate me." Lol I kid...but he definitely isn't the very smartest. I was thankful that he was pretty easily found, although it did keep Connor awake for the next 2 hours, which led to an extremely late nap and a very difficult wake-up.
Ahhhh Otto. I love you, you crazy dog. Try to go easy on me in these toddler years, okay?
