Grandparents are supposed to spoil grandchildren, and my parents definitely live up to that when it comes to their grandpuppy.
My parents have many years to wait before grandkids. I’m not married, and my two brothers are still in college. Cubbie, though, definitely gets treated like a grandchild.
When I first told my parents about Cubbie, they didn’t think it was a good idea for me to have a dog. They thought he would be too much work and too much money (all things parents are supposed to worry about). Then I came back to Oelwein for one of my best friend’s weddings in September of 2006. I had just gotten Cubbie three weeks prior. He was still very small, less than five pounds. I remember the first time my mom saw him. We just pulled into the driveway, I let Cubbie down and he started trotting up the sidewalk just as my mom walked outside. She instantly became Grammy.
Cubbie soon got the run of my parents’ house. Compared to my apartment in Ottumwa, he had tons of space to run and lots of new rooms to explore. He had help from my family dog, Huckleberry. I’ll talk more about Huck in another blog. He had a few favorite spots to explore. One was my little brother’s room because he always leaves stuff on the floor. The other, was the cat’s litter box. Yes, as gross as it is, I will admit, Cubbie loved to dig in the cat litter box for “treasure.” My dad walked upstairs and found litter and “treasure” all over the carpet in my parent’s bedroom.
My mom immediately began playing and cuddling with Cubbie. She had a black poodle as a child, and would rub the dog’s paw to help her fall asleep at night. Cubbie lets her rub his paw, too. She loves it when he jumps on the couch with her and curls up. She also volunteers to hold bones for him. (For some reason, it’s sometimes too much work for him to hold onto the bone with his paws AND chew, so he likes people to hold it).
At stores my mom shops for dog toys. Cubbie even has a whole basket of toys that stays at my parents’ house. It is completely full of bones, some of my old shoes, balls and stuffed animals. She’s also obsessed with giving him treats. Everytime we get to Oelwein, she asks Cubbie if he wants a treat. I swear, Cubbie has gained 10 pounds simply because of my parents. When my dad gets home, he gives Cubbie milk bones, and not just one, but usually three to five. No matter how many times I tell my parents “NO,” it doesn’t matter.
I think it was my mom who actually started referring to her self as Grammy and the name stuck. That’s how Cubbie knows my parents: Grammy and Grampy. If I say, “Want to go to Grammy and Grampy’s?” He starts to bark and wag his tail and runs to the door. When we’re in the car driving to Oelwein, he knows when we’re close to my parents’. As we drive up the road by the house, he starts to look out the window, tail wagging, barely able to contain his excitement. When we pull in the driveway, he bolts from the car and runs straight for the door. Sometimes we get to my parents’ and no one is there. He runs from room to room looking for Grammy and Grampy.
My mom spoils Cubbie to no end, but that’s just who she is. My dad, on the other hand, would pretend he wasn’t a big fan of Cubbie, but that didn’t last long. Soon my dad and Cubbie became best buds. One reason, my dad likes to eat snacks, and he’s notorious for dropping crumbs everywhere. Cubbie learned this and began following my dad as he walked to the kitchen for food and back to the living room. Cubbie also loves riding in my dad’s truck. I think he likes how high up the vehicle is. Cubbie sits on the center console while he and my dad run errands.
One of my favorite things is when Cubbie and my dad share a chair. My dad always sits in the same chair in the living room, one day Cubbie decided to join him. Dad slid over, and Cubbie now has a little corner he always sits in. More often than not, Cubbie goes to sleep next to Grampy, with his head hanging over the arm of the chair.
I have wonderful parents, and they are so amazing with Cubbie. They love playing with him, and they help me out so much. I know I always have a dog-sitter when I’m working long hours or need to go out of town. Cubbie loves it there, and he always comes back VERY worn out.
Posted under Cubbie stories
This post was written by dwagner on December 31, 2008