Life With Arlo: Grandma's House Edition

Grandparents obviously aren't supposed to have favorites, but my mom definitely has a favorite granddog and it is not Arlo... Nevertheless, she occasionally invites him over for a brief visit because she understands how very much he adores her.

Because Arlo is an absolute menace to society, the last time he paid a visit to my parents' house was the day he ran away from home and took himself to my parents' house (🙄)... until we stopped by last Wednesday while walking the neighborhood that evening.

My mom met us outside and Arlo proceeded to throw himself at her, wanting to cover her face with kisses and plant muddy footprints all over her sweatshirt and wrap his wiry arms around her in a hug. And because my mom is a very kind person, she invited us inside. I was given the go-ahead to take off Arlo's leash.

I should not have done this.

Next time we visit Grandma's house, Arlo will be on drugs because he literally never stopped moving. He was like a tornado, leaving a mess of destruction in his wake, and went from one room to the next, exploring anything and everything. Unlike Augusta, Arlo couldn't care less about the cats living at my parents' place, but he very much enjoyed their food. Then, supposing my terrible terrier had worked up a thirst after devouring Bertie and Pops's leftovers, my mom gave him a dish of water.

For those of you who have never owned a male Airedale, placing a bowl of water on the ground probably doesn't seem like such a big deal, but if you have owned a male Airedale (and maybe a female one --- I just never had a problem with Agatha doing this though), you know that they tend to eat the water. Augie, my Kerry Blue, laps at the water, and even though she has a beard, she somehow manages to not make a mess. Arlo, on the other hand, tends to stick his entire snout in the water dish and gobble it up. I mop regularly as a result.

For reasons that neither my mom nor I can understand, Bert, her orange cat, decided to venture into the living room while Arlo was visiting. Now, like I said earlier, Arlo isn't fazed by cats. He's grown up with them and generally has great respect for them. I've taught him that they are the superior creature and he mostly understands that. The problem is this: Bertie, when he finally realized Arlo was in the room (and Arlo, in turn, noticed him), began to growl.

Arlo didn't understand this. His cats don't growl at him, you see, and I believe he took offense to this behavior because he barked... which made Bert's fur stand on end and his tail grow big and fat. So then there was barking and growling and I tried to calm Arlo (which I managed to do because it was just his ego that was hurt) and Bert took off and a lamp may have fallen onto the floor, along with a book or two.

We left after that.

And then my mom mopped... for obvious reasons.

But do you want to know what else my mom had to do? Blot urine from her carpet because Arlo attempted to mark his territory by peeing on her new chair. Fortunately, the boy has terrible aim and missed by several inches, but what an absolute asshole, right?! I know. I can't take him anywhere!

And that, folks, is my dog...

I love him --- really, I do --- but I can't say that he always makes me proud. 😶