Last night was meant to be easy. Two episodes from the Fireflies DVD that Ash loaned us, and a couple of glasses of Saltram Chardonnay over some thin-crusted pizzas from down the road. In bed at 10 on a Saturday – whoah! But Fergus had bigger plans. Either he picked up some extra stimulation from the leftover peppermint icecream tub that we let him wallow in, or he double dosed on the flea medicine in both their dinners, but he hit full guard dog mode at 11 and had to be rescued from waking the neighbours at 12 and 2.
It was getting ridiculous at 2:30 so we went into last-resort mode and I whacked him around the hind quarters and locked him in the laundry and Kim broke out the earplugs. He yelped every 20 seconds for half an hour and the noise got louder and louder, accompanied by scrabbling sounds. It built to a crescendo and I had this stupid thought that maybe he needed to go to the toilet outside. He hit the dog flap with a full howl and then I really got mad. A few more whacks and he was brought back into the bedroom. He settled for a few hours but by 5 it was out of control again – back to the laundry.
Then I broke out the sedatives and “rewarded” him for his behavior. It took about 30 minutes but finally he settled for good. What a bad parent I am.
