Meet Max. He might look like a big tough American Staffy, but don't be fooled. He's really the biggest wussy boy pansy you'll ever meet in your life. He has a few issues (like he can't go walking because he hyperventilates and passes out. No really - you try carrying a 30kg lump of hair covered concrete 4km's because he's frothing at the mouth and fainted!), but he seems to be getting worse as he gets older. His big thing these days is thunderstorms. Or anything that remotely sounds like a thunderstorm.
On to my story...I'm sitting in my new office (woohooo!) the other day and 5 times I had to stop him from climbing through the railings on the stairs, trying to climb through the glass door to get inside. So I walked to the kitchen to get the phone to call Steff and ask if we had anything I could put there to stop him falling to his death, and in that 43 seconds that my back was turned, he managed to get his big fat head, 2 front legs, and 1 of his back legs through the gap between the 1st and 2nd rail.
I couldn't open the screen door to get out because his foot was in the track, so I had to run out the front door, through under the house, and up the back stairs, all the while the dog is literally dangling by one leg 12 feet above the concrete down below. I couldn't pull him back onto the stairs, because he just wouldn't fit - he's a big dog! 30kg's and built like a tank. I still don't know how he squeezed through the 6 inch space as it is. My only option was to push him through, which meant I had to hold him so he didn't fall.
Picture if you will, me in my Tweety Bird jammies, leaning over the railing holding onto the scruff of his stupid neck with one hand, while trying to push him through with the other. The dog is crying because the ends of the rails are sharp and cutting him, I'm crying because all I can think is that I'm not going to be able to hold him and I'm going to have to watch my beloved (but Ohhhhh so freaking stupid) dog go crashing to his death, and the boys standing at the office door crying because Mummy and Max are crying.
Then picture my next door neighbours, who obviously thought this was all for their entertainment and stood there and just watched the whole thing without offering to help. But I digress - that's a story for another day, and another post, probably entitled "The people who live in our neighbourhood and why they should all die!!!"
Fast forward 20 minutes, and I finally managed to get him through, caught him with one hand and kicked his hairy arse all the way down the stairs. I was filthy! So poor little Wyatt had to stand in the office doorway and yell at Max every time he tried to do it again (never been one to learn from past mistakes - takes after the other children!), while I had a shower.
I'm now, 4 days later, covered in bruises that have faded to lovely shade of baby poo yellow. Oh yes...I'm nothing if not glamourous and attractive!
Here he is...our first "baby". Steff and I bought him together a couple of months after he arrived in Aus in 2001. (Don't believe the stories he tells you about foot stomping and tantrum throwing in the pet shop either - it's all lies!) He's off to the vet soon to have a full assessment of his mental health. It's looking like he's going to need full time anti-anxiety medication. Awww isn't that sweet? He really is mine! We share the same chemical imbalances :oP
I'll pop by later and post a couple of new pics of the boys. And next week I'll do the big reveal of my new office, which is just supercallafreakinAWESOME! Because I have the best husband in the world.
xx
