Friday, August 11, 2006
Painting With Oreo
The longer you have a dog, the more you realize that he affects just about every aspect of your daily life. A dog is kind of like a kid that way except worse since a kid eventually grows up and sometimes does what you say. And with any luck, unlike a dog, a kid will eventually leave home.
The latest evidence of my dog-bound life came with the painting of the outside doors of our house. What would normally be a straightforward task became unduly complicated with Oreo in the house.
There was no way we could paint the doors in place since Oreo would have been at them and us the whole time with untold disastrous paint-related consequences. So we took both doors off their hinges and placed them on a table in the carport.
Since we have screen doors both back and front, this was an elegantly simple solution that allowed me to scrape, sand, clean, prime and paint both doors without Oreo's involvement. Trust me, the tasks progressed much more quickly without his assistance.
Alas, there was still one minor complication. I took it upon myself to scrape and paint the back door sill. But in order to do this (and to provide time to let it dry), I had to leave the back screen door open.
This meant taking steps to prevent Oreo from exiting the back door and tramping his paws through the fresh paint on the sill. Our eventual solution was to build a small fortress of chairs, stools and a dog crate to bar his exit.
This solution worked although there was a small drawback. Any time Oreo whined, we assumed he might have to go to the bathroom. So we put on his leash and took him out the front door to the front yard where he, of course, did nothing.
It is now the morning after and both newly painted doors have been rehung and we are back to normal. Oh wait, Cheryl wants to paint our two Adirondack (Muskoka, for my Canadian readers) lawnchairs.
I'm leaving before this project starts. I figure I've done my time in paiting purgatory for this week. Bye Oreo. See you later, hopefully without pink paint on your tail.
The latest evidence of my dog-bound life came with the painting of the outside doors of our house. What would normally be a straightforward task became unduly complicated with Oreo in the house.
There was no way we could paint the doors in place since Oreo would have been at them and us the whole time with untold disastrous paint-related consequences. So we took both doors off their hinges and placed them on a table in the carport.
Since we have screen doors both back and front, this was an elegantly simple solution that allowed me to scrape, sand, clean, prime and paint both doors without Oreo's involvement. Trust me, the tasks progressed much more quickly without his assistance.
Alas, there was still one minor complication. I took it upon myself to scrape and paint the back door sill. But in order to do this (and to provide time to let it dry), I had to leave the back screen door open.
This meant taking steps to prevent Oreo from exiting the back door and tramping his paws through the fresh paint on the sill. Our eventual solution was to build a small fortress of chairs, stools and a dog crate to bar his exit.
This solution worked although there was a small drawback. Any time Oreo whined, we assumed he might have to go to the bathroom. So we put on his leash and took him out the front door to the front yard where he, of course, did nothing.
It is now the morning after and both newly painted doors have been rehung and we are back to normal. Oh wait, Cheryl wants to paint our two Adirondack (Muskoka, for my Canadian readers) lawnchairs.
I'm leaving before this project starts. I figure I've done my time in paiting purgatory for this week. Bye Oreo. See you later, hopefully without pink paint on your tail.
