Houseguests and Fish

Recently I've been host to a grown son and his Bloodhound.  It isn't the perfect living situation.  In a small space, hosting any grown adult is challening enough after even a short while (for me and him); add his dog, and it pushes the limits.  (What is it "they" say:  After seven days, fish and houseguests begin to stink?)  As I type this, Hayden the year-old black-and-tan Bloodhound is attempting to sit on my lap.  His owner, my son Joe, is here (temporarily) and we're all kind of squashed into my 800-square-foot or so apartment.  It's necessary right now and we'll make the best of it. 

As dogs go, Hayden is actually very sweet.  He is mostly legs, it seems, which all seem to work independently of each other.  I've written about him before.  He's a cartoon of a dog.  Everything about him that bothers me is not his fault.  He can't help how big he is, or that he has to room with Joe in my small apartment, or that he is of a shedding, slobbering, drool-slinging breed. Or that he walks away from his bowl with water streaming from his jowels. And, he smells like a dog.  As soon as he and Joe move on, I will have to seriously de-dog this place.

I can be grateful for some things, if I think hard enough.  He doesn't chew my furniture.  He sleeping quarters are covered in towels and sheets.  He lets Joe know when he has to go out.  On the other hand, there are behavioral issues I wish could be corrected.  He howls at the moon when little Henry is sleeping.  He takes off, running right through the electric boundary, whenever he's excited by something "out there."  He loves to ride in my car and likes the wind flapping his long, luxurious ears, but this leaves drool residue glazing my back windows.  (I have all sorts of lint-picker-uppers and odor-diffusing sprays for my car.)  Inside,  I have to keep my kitchen counter-tops empty after finding him, seemingly 6-feet tall, vertically surveying the length and width for anything snatchable.   And, because of separation anxiety, Hayden must come in to the bathroom when I (or  Joe) shower.  Otherwise, he's grief-stricken and inconsolable.  There's nothing like lathering up and having a Bloodhound's head peeking through the shower curtain. 

Joe and Hayden need wide-open spaces, a place to settle and do their own thing, and he's working on that.  I simply need my own little space, a "room of my own" big enough for just me, to feel at home again.  I love my kids, and their dogs, and they are welcome here anytime, but please, remember -- fish begin to stink after seven days....  Nice mother, eh?