I glanced at my search terms the other day, and noticed that someone had chanced upon my blog by searching for “Wonder rut”. This leads me to believe that Scooby-Doo is trying to find my posts about my lovable bulldog, Wonderbutt. Either that, or someone is trying to communicate to me (like that Evil Captcha Witch) that Wonderbutt’s unruly behavior is starting to become ho-hum boring. He has been in kind of a rut lately, I must admit. Pretty much every day, when we arrive home, we find some variation on the following theme:
And, as more than one someone pointed out on yesterday’s Science Fair post, how come the dog did not put me out of my misery by eating my daughter’s bread-that-refuses-to-mold experiment? I mean, we even placed it on the kitchen counter, near the edge, and the dog still hasn’t touched it. Don’t tell me he has standards. He eats couch foam, for heaven’s sake!
Anyway, I am starting to get a bit nervous about Wonderbutt’s lack of imagination lately in the demolition department. Without him, this blog is going to quickly lose the smidgen of appeal that it currently possesses. I think the two of us need to have a serious talk…
I mentioned a few posts ago that we had been furniture shopping. Our bulldog, affectionately nicknamed Wonderbutt, has thoroughly annihilated our sofas in his never-ending quest to make our home inhospitable to guests. We felt like we needed a new plan, and Step 1 was to order new couches that will a.) deflect dog hair, 2.) have no removable cushions, and III.) not smell like Wonderbutt.
The danger of this plan, of course, is that Wonderbutt will find new ways to sabotage our attempts at interior decorating. Crating Wonderbutt has been recommended by many fans. But I must tell you that, with Wonderbutt, crating was a disaster. He does not like being treated like a dog. His vengefulness is tenfold when he is crated – resulting in daily crate cleaning and sterilization, belligerent bulldog baths, and house defumigation. Even when his crate was cleverly positioned so that he could go in and outside whenever he wished, he continued to soil his crate in defiance of his semi-imprisonment.
Our new plan is to restrict him to the kitchen while we are gone, using the baby gates that keep him from entering the Forbidden Section of the house. This plan has many potential perils, I must admit. There are table and chair legs aplenty for him to chew on. In addition, there are numerous cabinets to explore and windowsills on which he can gnaw. But we have decided the kitchen can be our sacrificial lamb as we haven’t really invested anything in renovating it – yet.
In order to make his kitchen stays more pleasant, we have decided that, upon the arrival of the new furniture, the old sofa cushions will be retained. I plan to toss one into his area every day before we leave, and admonish him not to destroy it. As soon as we exit the house, I expect, he will begin to decimate said cushion – hopefully concentrating so well on that project that he will live the rest of the kitchen alone.
We have also ordered a clever little dog bed cover to give him an alternative to sleeping on the couch. We can stuff it with the old cushions or pillows – or even with Dimples’ old crib mattress. The cover was fairly inexpensive, so I won’t feel devasted if he manages to pierce it with his sharp little teeth. And, the bonus is that you can have it personalized. I was very tempted to use one of the predetermined phrases – such as “Danger Toxic Gas”, but settled on a simple “Wonderbutt” logo instead.
Do I think that this carefully considered plan that we have devised will work? Will we finally be able to invite guests to our home in larger numbers than the current one safe place to sit that we have now?
Sure – at least for a week or two.
In defense of Wonderbutt, I will say that our sofa is very old. And that we have been wanting to replace it since we moved into our house three years ago – when we inexplicably painted the walls blue when we had a maroon, brown, and green couch. Our golden retriever’s fur clings to the fabric of the sofa in large clumps. No matter how many times I vacuum or lint roll the cushions, every visitor that makes the unfortunate decision to sit on our furniture stands up with golden hairs affixed to every inch of his or her clothing. If we invite friends over, I always add the clause: if you value your appearance, do not wear black.
And now tiny white hairs are added to the mix. The pillows that Grandma specifically recovered for us so that we could pretend our sofa was designed for a house with blue walls have had their corners chewed off, and decorative braided trim trails from the sides. The back of one sofa has a giant dark circle where Wonderbutt obsessively licked the couch for no apparent reason. One sofa cushion has half its foam and a zipper missing.
Once we got our floors back in shape, it was even more evident that the sofa would be a fitting prop for the living room on Sanford and Son.
So, we decided to get a new one. Yes, I know that it is counterintuitive to replace a piece of furniture that was destroyed by your dogs with a new piece of furniture when said dogs still roam freely in the house. But a quick poll of those who know me well will reveal that I regularly defy logic.
We found a sofa that will not attract hair, will go with our blue walls (that will soon be a different color, but that’s a story for another day), and – most importantly – does not have removable cushions. At least, they are not designed to be removable.
When going over the details of the sofa, our ears perked when the salesperson asked if we were interested in purchasing the accident protection.
“What is included in this plan?” I asked.
“Rips, tears, spills, stains. All of those will be repaired if you buy the accident protection.”
“Let me get this straight. If the cushion has a big hole in it, you will replace it, free of charge?”
“And, if there’s a huge watermark on it, you will replace it, free of charge?”
Cap’n Firepants, Dimples, and I all looked at each other in wonderment. Why the heck hadn’t we heard of this miraculous plan before?
“So, what you’re saying is – no matter what my dog does to this couch, you will fix it?”
“Oh no, Ma’am. This doesn’t cover pet damage.”
I stared at the woman, unable to speak. Cap’n Firepants quickly stepped in.
“We don’t need the accident protection,” he assured the salesperson, as I tried to tell myself that throttling her would be counterproductive. I wondered if she had accident protection.
“You could say that your child did it,” the woman conspiratorially whispered to me.
So, Guap asked in the comments from the The Big Reveal how far along Wonderbutt is into eating our new concrete floors. I would also like to mention that I clearly stated at the end of yesterday’s post that we now need new furniture to go with our indestructible floors.
This is what I saw when I arrived home today:
Of course not. But I know a couple of places I could buy a concrete bulldog.