Little Mac and the Trail of Turds

Little Mac is going to be thirteen years old in April.

She's always had a mind of her own.  When I'm feeling generous, I call her temperamental.  When I'm feeling less generous, I call her psychotic.

When I'm feeling reckless, I let her get this close to the baby.  (Not to worry--David was less than an arm's length away and actually trying to lure Mac away from the baby with treats.)

Baby loves psycho dog.

Little Mac has gotten into the habit of demanding to be let out in the middle of the night.  And by "demanding," I mean she wakes us up out of a peaceful slumber by wailing at the top of her lungs.  Think about a cross between a coyote, an ambulance siren, and a screaming woman.  That's basically what she sounds like.  When we first moved in, Mac got left in the back yard and voiced her displeasure.  Our next door neighbors came bolting outside to see what was wrong--they later told us they thought someone was getting raped in the alley.  THAT is what she sounds like.  There's no ignoring her demands even though we KNOW she COULD hold it all night long if she wanted to.  So we get out of bed and let her outside.  (And by "we" I almost always mean David, bless his heart.)

Usually she scurries right out into the backyard, pees, and then hurries back inside to go back to bed.  But there have been a couple of nights when she just stops on the deck.  Outside in the freezing cold.  After she's already peed.  And she just...  looks around.  Stares off into space.  Stands around doing NOTHING until David, tired of waiting for her, dashes outside, grabs her by the scruff of the neck (which she HATES, btw) and drags her back inside.

This always happens about fifteen minutes after the baby has woken us up.  So just as we are drifting back to sleep, Little Mac starts wailing and demands to be let out.

Last night was a rough night for Zuzu, so we both groaned when Little Mac started wailing about 2am.

David (bless his heart) got out of bed and went to let her out.

Except, she wasn't standing by the gate waiting for him to come out and open the back door.

She was curled up in her bed in the corner of the living room.  Just hanging out.  WAILING.

David asked her what was wrong and she ignored him.  Then she stopped wailing, got up, and started circling on the living room rug with her back arched.  This, my friends, is her classic "Immabout to poop" move.

David was trying to figure out what the heck she was doing when he realized she actually WAS about to poop.  Right in the middle of the living room!  In front of God and everybody!  With David standing right there watching!

So he swooped down and picked her up back the back of the neck.

She was growling and barking in protest, but he hauled her to the backdoor.

AND SHE POOPED A TRAIL OF TURDS along the way.

I just...  I just do not know what we are going to do about her.  Is she getting senile?  Or just malicious?  It's really anyone's guess.

The one thing she has going for her is that she has never shown ANY aggression (or any interest, really) towards the baby.  We know better than to believe that peaceful coexistence will continue once Zuzu is on the move, but we're going to take it while we can get it.

(FYI: On our last visit to the vet over Christmas break, Little Mac was pronounced in excellent health overall, with cateracts and a mild heart murmur.  Considering the fact that she's twelve-going-on-thirteen, I asked the vet about her life expectancy.  He thinks she'll make it to fifteen, easy.  The thought of not having Little Mac is so sad.  And yet...)

Zuzu is, of course, crazy about her.  She'll sit in her jumperoo and watch the dogs run around and it makes her laugh and laugh, which is just about the cutest thing ever.

Zuzu and her buddies.  Once again, Mac is being distracted and led away from the baby.

Not the cutest thing ever?  Cleaning up a trail of dog turds at 2am.