Its a Dogs Life

I guess you could call me an animal lover, I pretty much have to be, because I have 4 ginormous, slobbery, farting, rescue mutts that I share my home with, and its not always a harmonious existence because they all came to me with ,'Issues", and living where we live, we are quite often trapped in the house together for long stretches of time, and when they get out, they track back in copious amounts of the outdoors, so if I was one of those chicks that sweated the small stuff, I would be even more twitchy than I am now.
My main mutt, and the doggy love of my life is my Dogue de Borduex/Neopolitan Mastiff mix ,"Fergus". Ferg is getting close to 3 years old and he weighs a hefty 174 lbs,(give or take), and he is the best dog that has ever owned me. Its because of him that I decided to fight harder to hang onto my home, because losing it would have ment losing him, and he has helped me though some of the worst of the P.T.S.D. He is my chief of security, the head of housekeeping and kitchen management, and my crowd control officer. He is a beautiful dog that is the color of a weimeriner with yellow eyes and the flaw of a pink nose that sunburns to hell and gone when I let him outside too long. He is a protective and bossy fellow that tries to be a good second in command,and he recognizes that I am the ,"Alpha Bitch" whos word is final, even if I dont speak it,(I have taught him to respond to subtle hand signals for my and his protection), but he also adores my kids and tolerates them rolling all over him, pulling on his jowls and laying on him. He is on a strict diet that is supposed to keep his weight down in the 160 range, but this winter has been hard on all of us and he has ballooned up to 174 due to lack of exercise and constant chumming by the kids, that has not only made him fat, but has also permantly scarred my sinuses due to the gas that has peeled the paint off the walls in my house.
The next dog in the roster is ,"Finnegus" our recently adopted Basset hound. I adopted Finn after reading about him on the animal shelters website. Poor Finn had been dumped at the shelter after a bad divorce, the ex-husband waited until the woman and kids were committed to an apartment that only allowed one dog, and since they already had a dog that they had owned for 12 years, he had been supposed to keep Finn,(who had a much lamer name)but after they moved, he dumped him to get back at his ex. Poor Finn had lost his home, his kids, his friend, and everything he knew all in one fell swoop. Since he was an older dog, and noisy, people would look, but no one was taking him home, so I just had to go get him. He is pretty much a perfect dog, hes neutered, chipped, house-broken, obediance trained,(as much as you can a Basset), and he is a cuddler, his two major faults are that he has ,"short man syndrome", and that he is somehow able to countersurf and open garbage cans, and after he devours everything he finds, the resulting effects on his digestive system clears rooms, makes humans and other dogs want to cry and actually makes matches and candles burn brighter. He likes to lay on my lap when I am in my recliner watching a movie, and at 70lbs, he makes it hard to get back into the upright position, so I have used that as my excuse as to why I have watched ,'Twilight" so many times. He is a very sweet dog, but he constantly challenges Fergs authority and he is a bit of a bed/couch hog that snores like a sawmill running a full bore through petrified wood. He is great with the kids and seems to find it funny to sprawl on top of my 8 year old and just roll around on him while my son giggles and tries to escape. He doesnt always wake up the best, he seems to wake up with a fight response to sudden touching, which leads me to belive that he might have been abused in the past, but I dont wake up gently either, so we kinda understand each other in that aspect.
The last two members of my pack are the Bernard twins,"Fiana and Tara", a pair of 3 year old St Bernards that I took in from an abusive home where they had been throwout dogs,(dogs that had been bought as cute little puppies in reaction to the last Hollywood movie and then promptly thrown out in the back yard when the cute wore off and the work began), they had no training beyond basic terror tactics, didnt respond to the names the owner said they had, and they were stunted and underweight and terrified of men, and they had never had a bath or been groomed. When I got them, I took them straight away to the vet for shots and chipping and exams, and then to the groomers, at over $400 later, I had new dogs that seemed to realize that they had just won the doggy lottery. They are boundless energy, and they love to run and since we have been hit with blizzard after blizzard, they can simply step over the fence and leave, so I have to secure them when they are out in the back yard, but in the house they like to lay next to my chair and on their beds out in the living room, or in the doorway of my bedroom where they drool at the cat food. When we adopted them they weighed 105 and 107, and now they weigh 128 and 132 and act like new dogs, including being housebroken. The drool is epic in amounts, and in fact they baptized my new flatscreen befor I even got it plugged in, they came running into the living room to see what I was doing and shook their heads simultaneously, slinging slobber all over me, Ferg, the tv and the walls. The hair is pretty bad too, they shed constantly and they track mud in more than any other critter around here, but its hard to get upset about it, because if I even look like I am tense or angry, they freak out and seem to try and turn inside out in an attempt to please. Tara ia a compulsive licker, and if I dont keep an eye on her, she will lick a raw spot on her sister or on her own leg, and just trying to keep them from tangling themselves around me and or each other is an exercise in frustration when walking them, because they bounce all over the place and then go submissive and then try to play with each other or get Ferg aggravated and then he smacks them up while Finn barks at everyone, so its constant chaos when I attempt to hook them up for a jaunt around the yard, but they are sweet dogs that just need a bit of time and attention to be wonderful dogs.
I am looking forward to this summer, I will be glad to be able to get the dogs out into the big yard and allow them to run and play and just be dogs, and to watch my son play with Ferg and do their version of Spartan training camp, where Ferg chases him around in a game of bulldog style tag that is amazing to watch for the sheer terror and athleticism it displays.
I enjoy having my dogs, though I belive they most likely have me more than I have them, and every crazy, gnarly moment that both amuses and horrifies me, from the audible farts that send the children into gales of laughter and quite often startles the offending dog, to the hair and slobber that has created unique guessing games such as,"Kid booger, dog booger, or unknown substance?" or the infamous,"Which dog did it?" and 'Lets chase the cat", our poor benighted cat has become a master of stealth movement through the house and she lives up under my bed and at night when the dogs are asleeps, she moves through the house as if she were navigating a furry minefield, and she has gotten really good at it and somehow retained her sanity.
Its probably a good thing I have no interest in dating, if my children did not scare men off, my dogs most surely would and very few could handle my 174lb self-appointed, fanged and drooling, body guard.