My dog, Baxter (also know as Boo-Boo, Bax, Baxy Boo-Boo, + Princess Boo-Boo), is a feisty, 15 year old Boston Terrier-Chihuahua mix.
Baxter is a spry + well behaved coffee addict. Her days of eating coiled DVD chargers, deodorant caps, pens, staples, sticks, stuffed animal squeakers + stuffing are long behind her.
Yes, you heard me right.
Baxter had a very mischievous youth. I never know what to credit all her poor food choices to, like maybe we never gave her enough toys to play with? Maybe she was hungry for attention? Or maybe it was her way of helping me clean up my bedroom? Or maybe she was just stupid.
WHO. THE. HECK. KNOWS.
But there’s no way that eating electrical cords tasted any good.
Over the years, this dog cost my family so much money due to all her belly surgeries that we were forced to get doggy insurance on her. Pet Insurance came at a time when my dad finally cracked. He threatened me, my mom, the dogs, “If ANY OF THEM eat dumb shit again, I’m not saving them. I’ll take them to the pound + let them handle it.”
Then, I yelled at my dad, slammed my bedroom door, locked it, + had one big ole meltdown. I cuddled my Jack Russel named Spot, I tore my room apart, ate an entire loaf of bread, made a lot of noise, + threatened to run away. You know, angsty 15-year-old stuff.
Well, after bringing Bax home from the vet, 6-months or a year went by, + my dad managed to forgive her. Then, she ate something else, + he saved her butt, but didn’t freak so bad, because he wised up + bought her insurance. Also, there’s no way my mom + I would have ever forgave him if he didn’t. The things we do for our pets.
Well, at some point, Boo-Boo stopped her reckless behavior. And I have only one solid theory that stands the test of time.
My dog is addicted to the coffee bean just like me.
Just…don’t tell Peeta.
She reminds me a lot of those old grannies who claim to live as long as they do because of their nightly shot of single malt whiskey. No joke, she’s as healthy as a horse + has stayed out of trouble for YEARS.
You’re probably wondering how this all started, so listen closely:
It was my mom’s fault, although it happened 100% on accident.
My mom, Mary, was the sweetest person I’ve ever met (but I’m biased), + Baxter was her BFF. When we brought Bax home as a puppy, she attached herself to my mom’s hip + she’s never let go. Ever.
She followed my mom to the bathroom, waited on the bathroom carpet until my mom finished showering, followed her to fold laundry. Bax followed her for everything. Every time my mom stood up from or shifted a centimeter in her big blue recliner, Baxter was doing the same. It was a never ending game of Shadow.
Mary, just like Bax, was not the healthiest.
This woman had a boatload of health problems, which led to not being able to hear + not being able to see well + not being able to walk all that great either. My mom was supposed to use a walker in the house, but preferred her weighted blue cane. But she preferred walking on her own even more.
“Fuck that cane,” she’d tell her girlfriends on the phone, all while laughing + remaining positive about her situation.
Sometimes, she’d try to sneak around the house without her cane, wobbling all the way, thinking she was fooling me + my dad. News flash: she wasn’t. But of course, Boo-Boo was right there beside her, dodging my mom’s feet as she swayed to the right + swayed to the left. But sometimes, Bax wouldn’t make it out of her way + one of them would always end up cursing at the other.
So now, imagine this but with Mary walking back from the kitchen with an oversized mug filled to the brim with Keurig coffee.
I’d offer my assistance to take her coffee over to the end table, but my mom would always say, “I’ve got it. Isn’t that right, Boobs?” (Another nickname for Bax, which I forgot to mention.) + Baxter would follow behind her, licking up all the coffee that sloshed out of her mug on the way to her chair.
Baxter obviously didn’t know what she was drinking, but as she was a natural begger, there was no way she wouldn’t slurp up the liquid that tasted more like Coffee-Mate’s Hazlenut creamer than anything else. The next stage of Boo-boo’s addiction came months later, when she’d pounce on my mom’s lap wanting to drink the coffee straight out of the mug. My mom let her, thinking it was cute + funny.
Then, Baxter jonesed for it even more. After a while, Baxter stopped following my mom around the house, if it meant my mom would leave her coffee mug unattended. Bax would wait until she was far enough away or not paying attention to stick her face right into the cup, drink half of it, + pretend not to know why my mom was so grouchy when she came back.
My mom would brew another cup, + the cycle would continue.
That cycle continued until my mom passed away. Then, Baxter latched onto me as her supplier. No joke. Whenever I was home from college, Bax would start growling+ barking at me if she didn’t get a sip. Hey, I can’t blame her though. If I didn’t have coffee for a few months, I’d be a raging bitch too.
And I don’t think it’s all that much of a coincidence that Bax has been a coffee-fanatic for about the past six or seven years + has managed to stay out of major trouble for about six or seven years too.
So that brings us to today.
Whenever I bring Bax over for a sleepover at me + Joe’s apartment, I always make sure to put out her food + water bowl in the kitchen. Then I set down her mini bowl + custom coffee coaster on the floor next to my desk. Before I start working for the day, I pour us both a cup of coffee.
The amount I give her is just enough for a few licks, not enough to hurt her or cause heart-palpatiations. Those happened a few times when my mom would leave her mug unattended. But I give her just enough that she settles down, plays with her blue, angry bird, chew toy, + and falls asleep.
So now, I wanna know! How do you spoil your fur babies? Leave a comment below!