The story of the dog is as follows:

When Random and I discussed living together, I had it firmly in my mind that neither her dog nor her cats would be moving into my house. Her birds, I spose I had no qualms with that, although I'm sorely regretting my initial reluctance to have her leave them behind as well (but that's another story).

My reasoning was thus:

Her cats had clawsand were used to going outside often. They lived in the country: I do not. Her cats would only hurt my cats, destroy my furniture, or perhaps get in fights with neighboring cats, and most of my neighbors keep their cats in, as afraid of things like this as they are of me.

Her dog was a dog, I like dogs that belong in other houses, but I'm just not having the heart for anymore dogs, at all. Her dog was a beagle-basset hound, messy and big and oafish.

At any rate, she left the cats behind, but brought the dog because she'd had him since he was 3 months old and her son was 3 years old. She tried to appeal to my well-documented Mercy because she claims Stephen was really attached to his dog Baxter.

To make a long story short:
  • He bit Joshua in the face, we were able to skip stitches with some well-placed bandages.
  • He shat on my white carpeting.
  • He pissed on my bathroom rug.
  • He shat in my basement.
  • He terrified my cats and made them hiss, and made their little tails puff out and made them spend three months in hiding.
Most of this happened at nights or when we were not at home. It was clear Baxter could not be trusted alone in the house. Stephen was with him during the day, but when school started, we decided to keep him outside.

The second day, my neighbors called the cops. We were cited for cruelty to animals (he had no doghouse??) and insufficient water source (how can a damn 2 gallon dish be insufficient??).

The third day Random bought a steel caged kennel. Of course, he chewed his way out and made a mess before we got home.

The fourth day Random wired the cage shut, set a couple of boxes of her hardcover books on it, and wedged it between her sofa and reading chair in the basement. He was able to get his head through the bars and chewed up some of her collector barbies that were in a nearby box and clawed upon the sofa.

The fifth day (a Friday) he escaped, ate through the boxes on his cage and ate the books inside - it looked like a rabid hamster lived in my basement, two boxes of books, not a shred of paper as large as a dollar bill. He ate her jacket. He ate the stuffing from her sofa. He ate ten barbies.


My friend Jill offered to take Baxter in order that I wouldn't kill him.

Saturday through Wednesday she stayed home. She claims he was depressed, just laid around. On Thursday, she picked up Random and they went to Walmart and two hours later when they got home she found her mini blinds all chewed into toothpick sized slivers of plastic. She suggested we pick up Baxter. Suggested.

Friday was scary, Baxter ate through a babygate I rigged up on the basement stairs to keep him downstairs. Saturday and Sunday I made Random and Stephen stay with him every minute.
  • Monday, we rewired his cage with wire coat hangers. He escaped.
  • Tuesday, we rewired his cage with wire coat hangers. He escaped.
  • Wednesday we put an ad in the paper for Saturday and Sunday. He escaped.
  • Thursday we threw our hands up and gave in... he ruled the house: I only lost one blind.
  • Friday he must have gotten wind of his impending departure, he slept the day away without incident.
Saturday the first family that drove 40 miles to town to get him brought him back 2 hours later, he had tried to eat their little pet doggie. They couldn't stand around and talk about it, they had to get their doggie stitches.

Finally, late Saturday night, the right people came for Baxter. An old lady who was home at every moment, all the time and had just lost her little Cocker Spaniel.

I wasn't really kidding when I told Random this morning that I thought she should call the nice old lady to make sure Cujo hadn't killed her.

I spose it's only funny if you lived through it - sorta made for some bad feelings since I'm a "told-you-so" according to Random. But you can't take a dog that lived in the country, is used to coming and going, and apparently doesn't have to worry about shitting where he pleases and put it in my house.

That don't work.