What do your friends, family, co-workers, and neighbors think about your life with basenjis?
People tell me, “I can tell my dog not to eat the sandwich on the coffee table and he won’t. I think they must believe they’re bragging, but truly, why would you leave food within a dog’s reach and then torture him with a command of that sort. The poor baby wants the sandwich, but he lives to please his people. That sounds cruel to me. However, should I ever be deluded enough to leave food within striking distance, I could sternly exhort the munchkins not to touch and they would wiggle their tails obligingly even while they snatched the food out of my hands and ate it right in front of me.
I proudly tell of Ivan and Dasa’s quirks and foibles, and about the chaos at our house. Non-Basenji folk usually give me furtive glances as though they can’t quite believe I am walking around without a keeper. My sanity is openly questioned, which only amuses me more.
Eric and I are permanent residents of the State of Insanity, and we kinda like living here. We have baby gates in front of all the bookcases because Ivan likes to eat books. Trash cans are secured against a raid. We have notes on toilet paper dispensers pointing to the cabinets where the toilet paper must hide if it wishes to survive. We've learned to scan magazines quickly and then recycle them before the Jaws of Ivan find them.
And I don’t understand the people who won’t let their dogs on the furniture. I want to sit by my dogs, and if they have to sit on the floor, then so do I. I don’t mind sitting on the floor occasionally, but as a rule, Eric doesn’t sit on the floor so this would never work.
What about the no dogs on the bed rule? Who thought of this? Really? It must be for hairy slobbery dogs because my sweet little basenjis are so nice to sleep with. Of course, those dainty elegant little dogs stretch to take over all available space, which is why we have a king sized bed.
My mom lives in a small town where everyone knows everyone. On a recent visit we met one of her friends when we were having lunch. This woman looked at me and demanded “Which one are you?” (I have three sisters and this is the usual comment when I visit my mom.)
After I gave the identifying information, the woman replied, “Oh, you’re the one with the dogs, and you’re a freak about it.”
Being sane is highly overrated. Think of all the fun you'd miss.