Meet Rufert

I''m Rufert.
These are my bottom teeth.

I am not one to rag on dogs.  I LOVE dogs.  I love my dogs.  I love other people's dogs.  I do not, however, love Rufert.  Rufert comes to our house once a year for two weeks when his owner goes over to England to visit his wife.  (Seriously, just don't ask.  Apparently, it takes an ocean between them to make their marriage work).  He is the dog of one of the mechanics at the shop my husband manages.  

This is the third year we've had the pleasure of watching Rufert.   Like I said he comes for two weeks.  Which means he goes HOME in just four more days.  I will admit, he's not a terrible little dog.  And he is rocking he ugly-cute thing, like hard core.  

But seriously - 

Number of times he's peed in the house:  1

Number of times he's pooped in the house: 1

Number of times I didn't know he pooped in the house and stepped in it - BAREFOOT: 1

Number of times he's tried to get it on with one of our other dogs, Morgan:  3,465,283 

To say I'm ready for Rufert to go is an understatement.   Whenever he comes I think he's adorable for approximately 1.25 hours.

After that it all comes screaming back to me that he:

- Hates grass and therefore poops and pees all over our patio

- Has dinner that is more complicated than dumping food in a bowl

- Normally doesn't see airplanes where he lives given the buildings around his house so he barks at them.  Every. single. one.  Oh and we live about 3 miles from a small local airport that people fly their private planes and Lear jets out of all. the. time.  

- Normally doesn't see flocks of birds...  or any birds...  and barks at every. single. one. 

- Has a weird skin disorder that as taken away a big patch of fur in the middle of his back and just left this scaley gross area that makes me not even want to touch him and definitely dials back the "cute" part of the "ugly-cute" factor by, well, by pretty much all of it.  

So why do we do it?  Because my husband is a kind and good person.  My husband, not me.  I mean, how could I be?  I just spent a half hour ragging on a little dog that can't help that he's the most annoying dog ever.  And also?  If two weeks in England with his wife where she lives...  in England...keeps his owner's marriage strong?  Well, then, we fully support that