By Arley Hoskin
This weekend marked a big occasion in our household.
On Friday, Logan and I stayed the night in Leawood after a wedding and left our Jack Russell terrier home alone. Technically, our cat Batman was home with him, but with no human supervision I pictured a remake of Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone going down in our house with Gunther as the star.
You might be thinking, “Seriously? He’s just a dog.”
But Gunther is no ordinary dog. Along with being the most mischievous dog I know, he’s also diabetic and requires insulin shots twice a day.
Finding someone to administer insulin shots to a dog who is a known biter is not an easy task. But our friend Jeremi proved up for the challenge.
Like overprotective parents, we checked up on Gunther in between the wedding and the reception. I know, I know, we are ridiculous. And I never cease to be amazed at how much love I have for a dog who truly is a terror. Seriously, I’m not exaggerating about how bad he is.
This weekend we started telling Gunther stories at my grandparents' and my mom brought up a few that I had apparently blocked out of my memory.
I had forgotten about the time Gunther peed by my head during a family camping trip. Yes, that’s right, he peed right next to my head.
I jumped out of the tent screaming but the damage had already been done. Logan and I had been dating for a little more than a year at that point and Gunther was still extremely jealous of me. He didn’t like the amount of time I had been spending at their “bachelor pad,” and he certainly did not appreciate the Hoskin family camping trip we dragged him to.
But I didn’t let Gunther scare me away. When Logan and I moved in together, Gunther tried his best to get me to move out and cancel the wedding. He bruised the tendon in my left hand after biting me one morning before work. To this day I’m convinced that the little bastard knows I’m left-handed.
One morning he trapped me in the bathroom while I was on the phone with my mom.
“I’ve gotta go,” I told her. “Gunther is blocking the door and I’m trapped.”
“How can he be blocking the door? He’s not even a foot tall,” my mom replied.
But then she heard Gunther’s growl and she knew that even though he might be small, he’s 19 pounds of pure terror.
Over the years I’ve learned that Gunther’s bark is much larger than his bite (although his bite does hurt like a son of a gun).
Gunther survived the night without us. Who knows, we might leave him home alone again for one of the four other weddings we are slated to attend this year.