We are a family that rarely agrees.
Don't get me wrong; we get along wonderfully. We just don't agree on much.
You should see us trying to decide on a place to eat. We love Mexican Village, but Casey is loyal to Taco John's. I hate Taco John's. KoKo loves McDonald's. Casey hates the place. And on and on and on. If we're getting our food to go, it usually means three of us eating from one place and Casey getting something from another place.
Then there's movies. KoKo and I love horror films. Kristie hates them (they give her nightmares). Casey, KoKo, and Kristie love comedies. I loathe them (except for the rare exception like the brilliant The Hangover). When Kristie and I decide on a film, KoKo or Casey won't want to see it. We did all manage to agree on watching The Hangover this weekend, but when Kristie proposed renting Star Trek, KoKo lamented how much she hated movies like that. Oh well.
But there has been one thing that has united us: Gail's dog, Ashton (a beautiful - if obese - Huskie).
Our hatred for this beast has most certainly brought us closer.
It's not that he is really a bad dog. He doesn't pee inside. He rarely barks. He doesn't wander around the house. He's great with Kenzie.
It's just that he is completely annoying. He can't decide where he wants to be. Worse, he's so fat and his legs are too weak to support his girth that he can't walk up steps (otherwise, we'd just put him in the basement with the other dogs - out of sight out of mind!). Plus, his claws play havok for him when he tries to walk on our floors.
So all of that means I have to let the dog out the front door, walk him around to the back yard (just the trek you want to take after a dozen inches of snow), and hook him up.
It wouldn't be so bad if he'd just stay out there. But no.
Here's how our daily routine goes -
When I get up in the morning Ashton is whining and moaning to go outside. Leave him outside for a few minutes and soon he is howling and whining to come back in.
Put him back inside and within an hour he is howling and whining to go back outside.
It's at times like these that we all - almost in unison - shout, "Ashton, shut up you stupid dog!"
We even got Kenzie in on the act.
Last night he was whining and moaning. Kristie and I both yelled, "Ashton, shut up!"
Then Kenzie added her two cents, "Bad dog!"
Perfect. Now if she was just old enough to let the infernal beast outside every ten minutes.