The Boys are my dogs, Ozzie and Carl. Now, I can't really call them our dogs because they really don't listen to my fiance and they mostly chew up her shit. So they are definitly my dogs.
Case in point: I went away for the weekend for a bachelor party and left Kelly at home with the Boys. When I got home on Sunday evening she looked like hell--tired and irritable. When I called her earlier that morning to see how she was doing the first thing she said was, "I'm exhausted. The Boys won't sleep and won't listen to a word I say! They won't sit, lay down. They're out of control."
Apparently, the Boys didn't go to sleep that weekend, perhaps because I wasn't home and they thought I would be coming home and decided to stay up and wait for me. How sweet!
Here's what I really think. They stayed up all night keeping Kelly awake just to fuck with her. They don't listen to her, at least when I'm not around. When I'm around and she tells them to do something, they usually do it. However, when I'm gone, forget it. You'd have better luck telling a rock to sit, lay down, and roll over.
And the best part is, that evening when I got home the dogs were all hyper, running around and fighting, knocking shit over, just being downright rowdy ... and these are two 80 lb Rottweilers.
They were very happy to see me and were very excited, but I walked them into the family room where Kelly was on the couch in a daze and told them to lay down. They immediately layed down on the floor and stayed there the rest of the evening.
They're such good dogs.
9/16/2005
The Boys
9/01/2005
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