Umm… No

(Or… FAIL)

I think we’ve already established that Jacques, while being incredibly sweet and wonderful, isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. He’s a few fries short of a happy meal, a few cards short of a deck, not the brightest bulb in the string… and so on. I was going to link to a previous post to prove my point but, really, you could read any of them and get what I’m saying. He’s more “special” than Rocky – and let me tell you, it takes A WHOLE LOTTA special to be more special than Rocky.

It took Jacques a while to figure out what was a toy and what wasn’t – and it wasn’t for lack of toys. My house often looks like a kindergarten playroom with balls and de-stuffed toys (which we call “babies”) strewn all over the place. After a few failed attempts, Jacques finally got the hang of the toy and toy box concept. I have tried to get him to understand the difference between “bring me the ball” and “bring me the baby.” When given one of those commands, he will do one of three things: pick up the toy closest to him, get Lamb Chop (because that is his favorite thing in the whole wide world), or stand and stare blankly at whoever gave the command. He usually does the latter. (Even Rocky – ROCKY – knew the difference between “ball” and “baby’!!) But what my little guy lacks in gray cells, he makes up for in gusto and cuteness. And I remind him often that it’s a good thing he’s cute.

umm_noAnd if you’re wondering… Yes, yes that is a bathmat. He dragged it all the way from the bathroom, down the hall, and into the office. I heard him grunting and heard something dragging but I was busy working. My curiosity (and doggie mom instinct) eventually got the best of me… I turned around and saw him sitting there with the bathmat. I was confused, then shocked, and then fell into a fit of hysterical laughter. It’s a similar story with the throw pillow. He dragged it from a chair across the house and into the office…

Just Jacques

Happy Jacques-uary!!

Okay, Jacques actually came into our lives in December, but he didn’t really come home to stay until January. Besides, Jacques-cember doesn’t flow quite as well. 🙂 We don’t know how old he really is (somewhere between 4 and 6 by now), but he acts like a puppy and greets each day with enthusiasm and gusto (once he actually wakes up and gets moving). So to celebrate all that is Jacques, this post will be “Just Jacques.” That’s it. “Just Jacques.”

Enjoy and remember to keep your heart open because love comes in all shapes and sizes!!

Another Jacques in a box... (It doesn't get old!)

Another Jacques in a box… (It doesn’t get old!)

Jacques and Baby Lamb Chop (before Jacques dismantled her)...

Jacques and Baby Lamb Chop (before Jacques dismantled her)…

Sleeping beauty...

Sleeping beauty…

Another picture of Jacques sleeping...

Another picture of Jacques sleeping…

Another sleeping picture?? Does anyone see a trend here??

Another sleeping picture?? Does anyone see a trend here??

I think this dog is narcoleptic or has some sort of sleep disorder...

I think this dog is narcoleptic or has some sort of sleep disorder…

*sigh* It's a ruff life, but someone's got to live it.

*sigh* It’s a ruff life, but someone’s got to live it.

Oh look! A picture of Jacques awake. And with toys spread out everywhere. How novel.

Oh look! A picture of Jacques awake. And with toys spread out everywhere. How novel.

Pillow Fight

A few months ago, my husband and I came home to our usual overenthusiastic greeting from Rocky and Jacques. (Okay, Jacques was the overenthusiastic part and Rocky was the greeting part of that statement.) We also came home to a strange sight. The large dog bed that normally resided in the corner of our living room was now halfway across the room. After further surveying, we realized that a couple of decorative pillows were missing. (They were later found in the office which is across the house from the living room.) Hmm.

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While Rocky is known to throw himself on the dog bed and wallow around in it, he’s never moved it. And let’s be honest, Rocky’s too lazy for that. It’s just not his M.O. Jacques was the only other viable source here, but he just seemed too small to move that very large, unwieldy bed any distance.

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We were curious, but decided to let it go. Until it happened again. And again. Finally, we pulled out a couple of webcams and pointed them in the direction of the large dog bed (in one corner of the living room) and in the direction of the throw pillow that seemed to always be moved to the office (on the other side of the living room). And of course we never caught anything. In fact, while the webcams were up, neither the bed nor the throw pillow were moved.

My money was still on Rocky because, while old and lazy, he had brawn (not necessarily brains) on his side. Austin thought it was Jacques. While neither of us was sure who the culprit was, we were sure we were being punk’d by a dog. Or maybe we had a ghost. We hadn’t completely ruled that out.

The “pillow fights” seemed to happen only while my husband and I were away… until one night after we had gone to bed, my husband heard a muffled noise coming from the living room. He got up to investigate and… BUSTED!!! Jacques was almost halfway across the house with the pillow from the large dog bed – he had managed to unzip it and was destuffing it! Apparently there was green stuffing EVERYWHERE. (I’m sure my husband would’ve taken a picture had it not been in the middle of the night. Okay, he probably wouldn’t have, but I would’ve taken one or insisted on one being taken had I known what was going on.)

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We finally had definitive proof of who was causing the mess and destruction in our house. (The throw pillow that he kept relocating to the office has had it’s edges gnawed on so that they’re frayed and torn. Makes me a little sad because it’s one of my favorite decorative items in the living room.) And just because we finally had proof, didn’t mean that the pillow fights were going to stop anytime soon. I woke up to a little “rearranging” just this morning.

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Maybe Jacques thinks he’s an interior designer and is putting things where he feels they belong. Maybe he has a vendetta against these pillows. Or maybe he’s just crazy and finds strange ways to amuse himself. Yay. Add another flavor of crazy to Jacques’ list.

Hey! Put That Back!

We’ve established that Jacques is OCD, ADHD, and all sorts of just plain weird. I like to have fun with that knowledge as much as possible. And by “fun” I mean fun for me… not necessarily fun for him.

My house often looks like a kindergarten class room – toys and toy remnants strewn throughout. It’s like a ridiculous obstacle course. And if you have to get up in the middle of the night, well, you’re taking your life into your own hands. “Why don’t you just clean it up?” you may ask. We have and we do, but a certain neurotic dog has certain places for his toys and if you move them it sends him into full on panic mode. (This is where the fun begins.)

When I vacuum (which is often with two furry beasts and a husband in the house), I have the joy of picking up all of Jacques toys. It doesn’t matter where he is in the house; he knows when you’ve picked up a toy. It’s like some weird Westie-sense. He immediately comes tearing into wherever you are and starts watching you with a panicky/ pissed off look on his face. It’s almost as if he’s saying, “What are you doing?? I put that there for a reason!!” He watches as you pick up one toy after another, eyes following your hand as you go from ground to arm with the toy. (It’s really weird. Like borderline creepy.) Then when you move to the next room to continue the cleanup, he’s right on your heels – literally on your heels – grumbling and carrying on the whole time. He’s even thrown himself (in dramatic fashion) in front of me and/or on top of a toy to stop me from picking any more up, but I’m bigger and have opposable thumbs. I win.

"No!! You cannot have it!!"

“No!! You cannot have it!!”

He’ll follow me around the house as I pick up toys, grumbling and looking panicked the whole time. It doesn’t take long to get an arm full of toys so I usually have to make several trips to the toy basket in the office. Well, I used to make several trips. When I would go back to drop off another armload of toys, I’d come to the office only to find all the toys I put away strewn about the office (and him sitting amongst the mess looking smugly triumphant).  So, now I either get all the toys in one trip or take the toy basket with me, which still results in him emptying the basket and sitting smugly in the mess within a few minutes…

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Jacques was guarding his toys...

Jacques was guarding his toys…

So one day, I upped the game. I put his toys in the washing machine! (Okay, I didn’t realize I upped the game until after the fact. The office smelled like dog and I thought washing the toys would help alleviate the smell.) He was baffled and panic stricken as he watched me put his precious, precious toys into the washing machine. He sat and stared at the machine throughout the entire wash cycle, occasionally whining and grumbling. (It was pretty funny. Although I’m sure he was plotting some sort of doggie revenge the whole time.) He did the same when I put them in the dryer. When the dryer was done, his toys weren’t completely dry, so I put them on a clothes rack. Oh the fun I had with that!! He didn’t know which baby to look at or what to do. He almost had a mental meltdown staring at these toys that he couldn’t get. I, on the other hand, laughed like a crazy person and enjoyed every minute of it.

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And for those of you who are feeling sorry for Jacques, don’t. When the toys dried, I put them all in the toy basket… and within minutes they were strewn throughout the house. Jacques was calm, almost peaceful at that point. And smug. He definitely looked smug. Jacques may win this battle, but I get my victories in when and where I can. I have since washed his toys several more times. Partly because they needed it; partly because I needed the laugh.

hey3