Limestone "Stoney" Young has been with the family a little over a month now and it's been a month of joy, destruction, pain, and bliss. Here's a look at Gayne's new dog ownership.
Stoney and my nine-year-old daughter have become fast friends.
Stoney’s roughness and uncontrollable brute force have been a mixed blessing for my six-year-old son.
Stoney is fond of destroying things. Here she is with, clockwise, a half-sheered towel, a gnawed on lightsaber, a once two-pegged bird feeder, another eaten towel, one of my once-was-a-pair-shoes, and a Yeti cooler she tried to eat the handle off of. Total time to do the above? I’m guessing less than a minute.
This metal lawn sprinkler had been in my family for over four generations. Now, it is a destroyed-wheel memory of the Young’s coming to America from great Britian.
Stoney enjoys playing with my daughter, which involves pulling and ripping her pants.
Stoney also enjoys ripping into my daughter’s tender flesh. Down, Stoney! Down!
And now back to the pants.
I’m not sure what Stoney’s facial expression is hinting at, but I yelled to my daughter, “Drop the puppy and walk away quickly!” across the yard.
Stoney’s cute demeanor is actually a cover for her deep-rooted homicidal thoughts.
Here, Stoney has commandeered what I believe to be a rubber alligator toy valued at more than $20. Not shown is my son running after him and me yelling, “That’s a twenty-dollar alligator, you little rat turd!”
Yes, there will be no resale on the alligator.
It was such a cute moment. Stoney brought me a soccer ball. My son said, “Look, Dad, she likes the World Cup!” I smiled and replied, “Americans don’t watch the Cup!” and kicked both the ball and the dog into the next yard.
What does Bollywood actress Aishwarya Rai have to do with my dog Stoney? Nothing. Nothing at all.
Late one Friday night, Stoney hit the floor in misery. We took her to the vet only to discover she had parvo.
Though she’d had two immunizations against the disease, parvo hit Stoney like a weighted sledgehammer. The vet gave her very slim odds for survival. My wife and I began to fear the worse.
My wife wrapped Stoney in a towel and announced that she needed to sleep in our bed that night. That’s wife code for, “Gayne, you need to sleep on the couch tonight.”
Thanks to my wife’s diligence, and the power of the animal-husbandry pharmaceutical industry and prayer, Stoney lived to destroy this part of my yard.
Even though I loved this watering can like a family member, I didn’t mind losing it to Stoney. It’s good to have her back healthy and happy.