Ziggy Marley the Fur Baby.

"Happiness is a warm Puppy."

Charles M. Schulz

Ziggy Marley was only four months old when this photograph was taken.  He was the fluffiest of fluffy puppies.  THE FLUFFIEST!  The way he would waddle as he followed me through the house warmed even the coldest of hearts.  He was a puppy dream.  For the first two years of his life he lived in a house filled constantly with chaos.  That fluff ball was never alone.  It did not matter what time of day it was, he was always in the company of a human being.  Ziggy Marley was spoiled rotten since day one.  However, the day Felipi and I got married his little world was rocked.

Our little pup went from spending every waking moment with someone to pamper him, to being left alone for a little over eight hours a day (Momma has to work).  The worst part?  We couldn't leave him loose in the apartment.  Why?  Because the Ziggles is a vindictive little munchkin.  The times we left him to roam around always led to catastrophe.  It was his way of showing he was angry, mad, completely offended that he was alone.  You may not believe me, but Ziggy Marley suffered separation anxiety.  Yet, what could we do?  

Then we bought our house.  Ziggy Marley was homesick.  For the first few days he would whine, and whine, and whine.  All day and all night.  It was horrible.  Again we tried leaving him loose in the house while we worked.  And, again, this proved to be a massive failure.  Unfortunately, Ziggy needs structure and rules.  Otherwise, he takes out his feelings on our rugs.  When I say takes out his feelings, I mean he poops on the rugs, every-single-time.  He just doesn't think he should be left alone, he's a stubborn one that Ziggy.  There are times where I just don't think it is fair to him that eight hours a day he is left all by his lonesome.  Then, I realize that Mr. Ziggy has no sense of time.  Five minutes, fifteen minutes, two hours, it is all the same.  And, when I come home and see that fluffy tail wagging, I know he forgives me.

So, every morning I let him loose for five minutes and say to him, "Ziggles, Momma needs to work, I mean, who else is going to buy your food?".  He stares back at me with those black eyes, wet nose, wagging tail, and I know he understands.  Then I do what I always do, I tell him to go to his bed, put up the baby gate, and walk away.  My husband has started leaving the radio on for him to listen to during our hours away.  I think he likes this, because there is less barking and more tail wagging when I come home.  

Ziggy Marley is a brat.  He barks at everything, he paws at you like a cat, and he demands his presence be noticed.  I swear he thinks he is royalty.  And no matter how many times I ask him to not make a mess, he does it anyway.  Hopefully my human children will be more obedient, hopefully.

xoxo