Trumpy - My kinda president
This little idiot is afraid of plastic bags. She finds it really challenging as most of her favourite items come wrapped in some form of crinkly static noisy material. Fake plastic cheese - which sounds like a particularly awesome tune by Radiohead - is covered in the stuff. The internal struggle with her teeny brain is plainly visible on her boof-head face, attempting to get past the uncomfortable feeling of being near the crackle plastic, to gob smack her face around the preformed wedges of goodness knows what, but probably not dairy.
Lucy (her formal name) is a discount variety doggy sourced from a family in Bribie Island. Come to think of it, she was probably a puppy farm reject as it certainly explains a lot about her extreme need for validation. She used to be an outside dog, but has slowly emotionally manipulated her way into the house; initially during the day while we were home, which progressed to inside while we weren't home, and then more recently into the night also. I imagine I have about another year before she wheedles her way into the bedroom, first the floor, then on the end of the bed, eventually replacing me as the primary resident of the king size mattress.
Old sh!tty face, Lou Lou, Boss, Puppet or Trumpy as she is more commonly known, has extreme storm anxiety. The first time this occurred while the house tribe was absent and she was left in the backyard with no access inside. As was the style at the time. We came home from a family visit to see her running amok just inside of the automatic sliding gate, strung out, with badly damaged interior fences hanging askew, torn to shreds in the backyard and a front door covered with scratches, dirt and teeth marks to express her frustration at being left outside. As Per Normal!
Since then she's cost me nearly $230 per month in medication, specialist training and a f*ck-tonne of patience to maintain enough calm to only tremble violently and press her whole hot 22kgs onto any readily accessible part of my body. Generally this occurs while she breathes heavily into my face and stares maniacally into my eyes, like she's willing me to prevent the tempestuous weather monsters from reaching through the distant rumbling darkness to crush her poor baby doggy soul. Really. I can read that much detail from her face when it's two centimetres away from mine.
Of an evening Trumpy lays on her blanket and pretends to sleep until we're all in our rooms, at which time she chooses wherever she wants to rest for the night. This bed-time however, she was restless and wouldn't lay down. We dismissed it as disobedience and went to bed. Two hours later, my beautiful little Homestay Alyssa woke to Lucy's barking and a man's voice speaking to the dog in a low tone. Alyssa text me, I called the police and we were SAVED! Without her, I'm sure the outcome of this encounter would have been quite the opposite. So, despite her huffy-puffyness, her over-demanding love, her tiny brown pieces of hair freaking everywhere, I think perhaps she might be one of the most important parts of my tiny little family. Much love xx