Is There a Return Policy for This?

Life is always an adventure when you have a dog by your side.  It seems for nearly every season of my life, there has always been a canine companion lounging in the shadows.  First, there was Maggie, a lovely Border Collie who had the most fantastic eyes, one sky blue and one brown.  I loved those eyes.  Then there was Bubbles, ironically enough a Rottweiler mix.  Best dog I have ever had.  My brother found her as a puppy, shivering in a ditch close to our house.  We still had Maggie at that point and we knew our parents were not going to be fans of their children, particularly their pint-size daughter, being owners of what would eventually become a 90-lb Rottweiler. 

So, we hid her in the barn for a few days.  We then conveniently told our parents, "Hey, by the way - we've been hiding a puppy in the barn for a few days.  Can we keep her?  I mean, you can't honestly expect us to get rid of her now!  She likes us."  My parents were kind enough to give in and let us keep her, despite the fact that they still were not thrilled with the idea of a stereotypically aggressive dog hanging around the place.  They made a good choice as she turned out to be one of my very best friends, especially in her older age as she mellowed out.  I thought I spoiled her, but when I left for college, my parents officially claimed her and loved her even more.  We still talk about that dog often.

And now there is Buster.

You should tell just by that transition alone that this is not going to end well.  He actually belongs to my brother, Josh.  As a puppy he was the cutest thing.  But aren't they all when they are puppies?  Then they gain 60-lbs and you question your sanity.  He's part Bulldog, part Boxer, all parts idiot. I swear this dog has no brakes.  He will beat you in a game of chicken every single time.  I can't tell you the number of times he will come flying around a corner, race into the barn, go sliding across the cement because his paws are slippery and because he's too fat to slow himself down, he'll crash into whatever is waiting for him at the end.  He's rammed a few saw horses on a couple of occasions.  Slid into the tractor a time or two.  Hit his nose on the car.

The best incident, however, was when I taught him how to climb up on the kids' swing set we have.  There is a set of faux stone steps on one side that go up into the wooden stand and then the slide goes down the other side.  Well, Buster morphed into a bionic agility dog when he discovered he could he hoist his fat behind up those steps.  I occasionally join him on his escapades up the steps and down the slide.  In hindsight, I realize that is not a brilliant move on my part.  I climbed up the stairs, he followed.  I tried to beat him down the slide.  Not smart.  As I was sitting down on the slide, he realized what I was doing and decided to follow suit.  So I now have a 70-lb dog pretty much perched on my shoulders as I'm heading down the slide.  I hit the bottom of the slide and the ground so hard because Buster slammed into the back of me.  I managed to bruise both knees pretty bad and I just about ate grass.  Of course, my parents are watching all of this unfold from the kitchen window.  Apparently I was the free entertainment for the evening.

Buster's latest endeavors, however, left me with dashed hopes.  He lives outside all of the time - no indoor pets for us - so we do our best to keep him cozy in the winter.   He fares well and we haven't had any problems, but this year I thought I'd see how well he handles wearing a blanket/coat/jacket, whatever you want to call a dog's attire.  He can be a spas-case about things so I wasn't entirely sure how this would go over.  I ventured over to Petsmart and found an X-Large blanket. (The dog's neck is 21-inches round and his gut measures in at 34-inches round.  He's a small tank.)  I bring it home, wrangle it on him and step back.  He makes an attempt or two to reach around to grab it, but quite frankly, the dog is too thick and has zero flexibility so it was to no avail for him to reach the blanket.

Awesome, I thought.  I leave it on him for a few hours, come back to check on him.  Yep, still on there.  So, I leave it on overnight.  Next morning, still there.  This is working out better than I thought.  And let's be honest - he looks good in it.  I think he knows it.

On Sunday, I went to turn him loose, but made the mistake of leaving the blanket on him.  Ten minutes later he comes flying around the corner per his usual hyperactive mode.  With no blanket on.  It's pitch black out so here I am wandering around our yard with a flashlight trying to find this blasted blanket.  No such luck.  I told him he deserved to shiver that night.

I go out the next day when it's light and what do I find?

   












I'm sorry, Petsmart, but do you have a return policy for when your dog is an idiot?