So I've mentioned our aged dog, Hazel. (She recently took an enormous crap on the carpet in our basement.) I've had Hazel since she was about 5 weeks old. I bought her for $5 from a guy who was trying to unload a box of puppies outside of Target in Bemidji, MN. She was the runt of the litter and was being trampled by her more robust siblings when Shelby Corson, a beloved camper (I was the counselor), pulled her out and I fell in love with her. I wanted to name her "Coolio", but my co-counselor and good friend, Emily, sold me on Hazel.
Hazel was rotten from day 1. She bit the campers. She peed on Emily's bed. I had to repeatedly get her dewormed because she wouldn't stop eating horse poop. 13+ years later she's still evil. (And, yes, I took her to puppy school and she passed with flying colors.) We work from home and she has, on more than one occasion, farted during a client meeting. She barks at the old people who live on our street and tries to attack any dog that comes within 400 yards of her. She steals the children's food and licks the dishes while I'm trying to load the dishwasher. She snores.
That said, we all love Hazel, even Ava...
[I am loading the dishwasher and Hazel is licking the dishes despite my repeated commands to stop.]
Me: [yelling] Hazel! For the love of God...
[Ava gets down from her chair, comes over to us and pats Hazel.]
Ava: Hazel nice. Hazel my friend.
Me: Hazel's your friend?
Ava: Uh huh. Hazel my friend...Don't beat her.
Yes, my 2 year old was telling me not to beat our dog (I asked her to repeat herself just to make sure). And this is where I'd like to say, "I have no idea where she got that from!" but I do. I regularly threaten to beat Hazel, but she doesn't speak English so I never worried about my fightin' words. Alas, my children do speak English, and now they think I'm an animal abuser.
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