It's been awhile since Sherman, Custer and Stonewall have ridden onto these pages. As I write this, they are snoring away at my feet. Thankfully the flatulent one, Custer, has decided upon a unilateral cease fire this afternoon, something he didn't do this morning.
Sherman has developed a crazy little habit of viciously attacking the vacuum cleaner while it's in use. When it's not running, he runs away from it the second it's moved. But when it's turned on, he turns into a quadrapedal version of Hercules and tries to bite it. He still Belushis unexpectedly when it suits him, and lately he's been defending himself from the tyro Stonewall -- more on that anon.
Custer is a planet unto himself. He has the most bizarre behavior. Anytime I go up the stairs, he runs ahead of me, sometimes barking as he ascends the stairs, and awaits me on the landing or the top of the stairs to engage in a little friendly play, usually with my wrist in his mouth. If I visit the bathroom, he guards me as I use the toilet, making sure no one can get between him and the toilet bowl, which is just a little disconcerting. Again, it's not the same way Stonewall does it -- thank goodness -- as he actually looks away from me to make sure no enemies might attack me when I literally have my drawers down.
Custer's other habit is to join in on fights when Sherman and Stonewall are going at it. Cus can be mindlessly chewing away in the corner while the maelstrom wages across the room and suddenly jump up and body slam Stonewall into the wall. He and Stonewall engage in some pretty vicious fights over toys, but he saves his Third Man In routine for Stonewall. He's by far the biggest pig when it comes to food, actually stalking Stonewall's food like a vulture doing lazy circles overhead while a lionness feeds on a gazelle carcass below. If Karen or I bring a snack to the couch while we're watching television, Cus reprises his role of Guardian of the Porcelain Bowl but faces us, nudging ever closer to one of us. He always has to be first out the door if the whole family's going somewhere...unless he doesn't want to go out, when he imitates a wrestler and flattens himself on the floor, betting me that I can't lift him. Unfortunately for him, I can.
The only disconcerting feature to Custer's behavior is that he has to wear a diaper lined with two Kotex pads at night. For some inexplicable reason, our boy Cus Cus is a bedwetter. And when we go out and leave him loose, the odds are good that he'll leave a solid deposit on one of the rugs for us to find.
Then there's the baby, Stonewall. According to Karen, he's not a good specimen pure bred bulldog. He's long, lean and tall and runs around like a boxer. He loves to play fetch and will literally jump over Sherman or Custer to get what's thrown. He loves to taunt them both with what he's recovered, deftly playing keep away until eventually the two gang up on him.
Stoney's still wild and for that reason must always be on a leash when we go for a walk. Sherman can be left off the leash and if there are no children around, Cus can be let off the leash within a few yards of the house. But Stoney's a runner.
The other problem with Stoner is that he loves to play rough. He will go up to Sherman and just sink his teeth into his flank. This provokes retaliation that usually winds up with Sherman humping Stoney. That doesn't deter him in the least. He views it as some sort of a breather in between playtimes. Once he's caught his breath, he goes right back at it.
Stonewall's version of guarding me in the bathroom is to inspect me as closely as he can while I do my business. It's not exactly private, but he's still a curious little puppy.
Stonewall and Custer share a weird habit of running to the freezer the minute they hear the ice being used. I give each of them a piece of ice which they proceed to chew on the floor, leaving a small puddle. Sherman has no interest in this. Since all three of them were fixed, I can't make the connection between being sexually frustrated and eating ice.
When we go to bed, the three boys sleep on my side of the bed. The choir of snoring that comes from our side of the room can be deafening. There are times when the boys are asleep that we can't hear the television and have to turn up the volume.
All I know is that they bring such joy to our lives. Yeah, they're hard work. They're not exactly cheap, either. But whenever we take them out for a walk, someone stops us to ask about them. They love and adore us unconditionally. They play with us and know when one of us is having a bad day. As I tell Karen constantly, they're the best toys I've ever had.
(c) 2012 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
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