It's five o'clock in the morning and I've awakened to a sharp pain emanating from between my ass cheeks. It's another burr that little Sasha has brought into the house, and somehow it has found it's way into my underpants. Over the last few weeks I've learned that schnauzers are like Velcro. Literally like Velcro. When I take Sasha down to the church on the corner to take a poop, she comes out of the weeds they call a lawn, with burrs all over herself. Burrs of all kinds including the most painful, sharp, and prickly of the little bastards. While I manage to get the most obvious ones picked out of her hair, there always seems to be that one that hangs in there, hiding until the dog jumps up into the bed where it manages to come loose.
Sasha has been with us now for about three weeks, and I have to say it's been a learning experience for the both of us. Sasha has learned where the bathrooms are, and pees in both Mark's shower and my bathtub. For Mark that has been a traumatic experience, while as for me, I just turn on the shower and rinse it down. One thing I haven't figured out yet is where she gets her sustenance. I put her food out at the same time as Chandler's, yet long after Chandler's bowl is empty, hers is still sitting there with food in it. The fact that she is in the kitchen at all the same times that Mark is in there, and the fact that she has taken up the spot next to Mark's right arm while he is eating dinner, may explain that.
Sasha is a good dog, and has quietly blended into the menagerie. She causes few problems other than the fact that I have had to rethink the logistics of feeding the cats. Although she seems to have no use for the dog food I put out for her, the cat food is irresistible. And while she does want to eat the cat's food, at least she doesn't seem to have a taste for Chandler's secret snack, the kitty litter box.