I always have a lot of people tell me how much they want a wolfdog after seeing Bastas, and more recently, after seeing the girls. Although I get why - I'd be full of crap if I didn't agree that my dogs look really freakin' cool - we joke a lot that their beauty is really their only redeeming quality. If Bast weren't so cute, I'd have probably sold him to gypsies or eaten him in a stew by now. The girls would make good side dishes or maybe some warm fuzzy gloves.
Let me take you through my Sunday morning thus far, and you can decide if you'd like to try on my pants for a while.
Somewhere around 1:00 AM, Zelda woke me by punching me in the face. She does this at least twice a night. Sometimes, she and Midna will both come punch me in the face to alert me to the fact that they've peed somewhere, so I wake up with a giant woofer paw slamming into my lips, as if imparting by telepathy that I now have to find the puddle of pee that's lurking in my home somewhere.
I shooed the girls away, but around 3:00 AM, Zelda punched me awake again, so I decided it was time for the girls to go outside and have a camp out. I hustled everyone out the back door - glancing around for the pee I hadn't found yet - and went back to bed.
An hour after that, around 4:00 AM, Bastas awoke me with the song of his people, soulfully answering the call of a passing ambulance siren. I went out on the porch in my jammies and bare feet to shush him.
5:00 AM repeat Song of my People. The radio stations in my backyard need to get some new tunes.
By 9:00, I was as rested as I was going to get and let the herd of elephants back in the house. The girls have enormous, snow shovel-like feet and none of their inherent wolfdog grace yet, so their approach is thunderous.
I separate everyone for breakfast - Zelda in the crate, because she's the most aggressive, Midna in the kitchen, and Bastas outside where he can slowly nibble on his breakfast at his leisure without the Twin Terrors harassing him for leftovers.
While I fix breakfast, Midna pees. She pees whenever she feels any intense emotion - fear, happiness, anxiety, excitement - so I normally clean up at least a few puddles a day. This is completely normal and not in the least unexpected.
After breakfast, Zelda gets excited and dumps over their completely full water bowl. Okay, I guess I'm going to mop this morning.
While I mop, Bastas sneaks back into the house and pilfers a Butterfinger from my secret stash of Halloween candy (which I was totally not about to eat for breakfast. Don't judge me.) I decide since it's a Fun Size and there's likely not even a smidgen of real chocolate in it that he can just have his ill-gotten gains.
By this time it's 9:30. I stand on the porch with my coffee, listening to The Littles snuffling around in the house for any dropped crumbs, and watching Bastas the Klepto devour a Butterfinger, wrapper and all. I glance to the side of the back door... Oh. There's the pee. Now where did I put the mop...?
These are my dogs. I wouldn't trade them for the world, but I also wouldn't wish them on my worst enemy.
What a life to choose.