…and a pissy teenager in the house.
I am talking about having Amy, Seven and The Cat (who is still nameless) all running around my house like they live here or something.
Amy doesn’t want a toy until Seven has it.
Seven doesn’t want a toy until Amy is playing with it.
Then they chase each other around the house, alternating who is chasing who. It always ends in tears and toy confiscation.
Needless to say, I feel like I am constantly mediating. Add The Cat to the mix, and we have a mess. A loud, rough and tumble, crying mess.
The Cat hisses and spits at Seven, who then barks at The Cat, which in turn makes Amy collapse into a small sobbing bundle.
Amy screams, so Seven barks, so The Cat hisses. Round and round it goes. (Unfortunately this one woke Nathan who yelled at the dog, which in turn made Amy cry harder. Go figure.)
And then we have the nappy changing. Seven thinks that nappy changing time is perfect for jumping on Amy. Amy disagrees. I disagree. Seven jumps some more, Amy wiggles and Seven decides that pulling her hair is a good game.
Of course, this brings Amy to immediate tears, Seven gets sat in the corner away from us, in disgrace and Amy decides that BOOBS! are the only thing that will make her feel *sob* happy again, so we feed her before putting a nappy on. Lather rinse repeat.
However, puppy training is going well. We haven’t had any accidents inside today and she comes when I call about 3/4 of the time. You know, unless there is something so! much! more! FUN! than me, IE: The Cat and Sevens harassment of said cat.
If she is bothering the cat (a sure way to make me entirely stressed) and barking, I can just assume that calling her WILL NOT work. At all.
Closing the door so that Seven is forced to bear the repercussions of biting The Cat’s tail is a sure way to get her back inside though.
I did manage to get outside though and let Seven and Amy play in the large amount of space we have. I spent the whole time making sure Amy didn’t fall of the slide (that she has a penchant for standing at the top of and clapping and foot stomping, before declaring ‘Mummeeee!’ and jumping at me. Heart stopping antics.) and that Seven didn’t eat the pegs/chase the kittens/disappear over to the (very very bogan) neighbours/run onto the road or any number of other things that Amy has never thought of doing.
Yet.
My view.