The disadvantages of being a wimp

I'm a wimp.
There. I admitted it.
For a long time, I denied it, pretending I was tough and fearless.
It's all a lie. I don't like risking serious bodily harm, even if the risk is small.

Mountain biking down the side of steep hill? I let my husband do his thing and I sit in the car and read my book. I used to go with him, climbing off my bike and wheeling it over the scary parts. Now, I stay home. A woman has to set boundaries, right?

Waterskiing? The turbo enema I got after falling on my butt convinced me it wasn't my thing. Now, I put on my sunglasses and sunscreen and take pictures. Much more satisfying and it doesn't cause a week-long interruption in bathroom duties.

Calling our credit card company to contest a bill? Not my thing. I know, like the customer service rep is going to jump through the phone lines and wring my throat for causing trouble, but I still hate it. Confrontation sucks. I hand the phone over to my dh and promise that when I become rich and famous, I'll buy him a Porsche. Surprisingly, it works. Men will do anything for their toys.

So, I'm a wimp.

Maybe even the Queen of the Wimps.

Or so I thought...until my dog's episode the night before last. I have been replaced as the leader of the wimps.

It was a dark and stormy night, (really, it was, I'm not making that up) and around eight o'clock, my 90 lb black lab ducked out the doggie door into the backyard.

Then he didn't come back, even though it was raining and cold.

After about 45 minutes, I stuck my head outside only to find him run up to the door, all happy. Um... okay. Guess he wants to get wet. So I go back inside.

An hour later, he's still outside. I try to get him inside, but he simply turns and runs back out the doggie door every time I bring him inside. This is the dog who has slept on my bed every single night since we got him. He's an indoor dog. A softie. So what's up with the sudden X-Games attitude?

My dh comes home and tries to get the dog inside, but he'll still have nothing of it. That's when I notice that the bar of Dove soap is missing from the sink. I figure that my dog ate it, and he's now having lots of fragrant and bubbly soap issues, so that's why he's staying outside. He's not acting sick, but what else could it be?

So, for the ENTIRE night, I get up every hour to go check on him. He won't come inside, even though he's soaking wet and shivering. I bring him inside, towel him off, drag him up to our bedroom, get him on the bed, order him to stay and hold him down. But within 5 or 10 minutes, he's so frantic that I let him go and he bolts off the bed, sprints down the stairs and goes outside.

I'm thinking major digestive issues going on, right?

This goes on for FOURTEEN hours. Every hour I bring him inside, dry him off and try to hunker down with him, but he refuses to stay inside. Finally, at ten in the morning, he's miserable and wet and whining, so I decide to take matters into my own hands. I dragged him inside and shut the doggie door. He spends the next hour pawing at the doggie door trying to go out, but I won't let him out. I told him that if he has to go to the bathroom that badly, he can just go in the house because he needs to dry off and warm up. Strangely enough, he never goes to the bathroom in the house, even after an hour. Maybe he's not sick???

Then I notice that the handset to our phone is beeping because it needs to be charged. So I hang it up.

And my dog stops trying to go outside.

Yep, you got it. He spent 14 hours outside in the rain because he was afraid of the beeping phone.

I concede defeat. My poor dog is the King of the Wimps.

posted by Stephanie Rowe @ 10:52 AM