Steve Irwin & The Coffee Table
All of our dogs eventually end up with a nickname, so it's no surprise that Trace ended up with one too. The surprise however, is that he has assumed the unlikely name of "Steve Irwin." Yes, the Crocodile Hunter lives!
We began calling him Steve Irwin when we noticed his fascination with Oli, the Current Patrol Dog. Oli is young. Oli is fast. And Oli looked at young Steve Irwin like he was a fast & fluffy bunny rabbit. Steve Irwin was definitely on The Menu. (along with sheep, goats, cows, horses, and trespassers) But Young Steve Irwin was drawn to Oli like a moth to a flame.
He would dance right up to her kennel, peer through the bars, and say (in a thick Australian accent) "Blimey! Look at the Dangerous Beast! I wonder what would happen if I tugged its tail!"
Yes, our intrepid young Crocodile Hunter wanted to PLAY with the Dangerous Beast. And the Dangerous Beast wanted to play with him too. It was a match made in Mommy Nightmares. So we juggled Oli and Steve Irwin for weeks, waiting for young Steve to either grow up enough to get some common sense (not likely), or grow up enough for Oli to realize that he was a D.O.G. and not a bunny zooming across the yard. We'd been doing pretty well until Friday night.
That night I came home from work, and took Steve Irwin and the Pack for a walk. Then I crammed The Crocodile Hunter in the house and took Oli out. She cruised along with the rest of the pack while I checked the rams. When I was done I whistled them in. Lo and behold, Oli came zooming in with Steve Irwin bouncing along beside her. (Apparently I had failed to notice that the Doggy Door was opened.) I'm sure I paled. There he was, a pre-schooler with arm floaties, swimming in the ocean with a Great White Shark. Despite the fact that he bounced all over her shoulders, she trotted along, oblivious to the little remora on her neck. I swallowed the urge to snatch up that little pre-schooler, pull off his arm floaties and throw his ass in the outside kennel before she could change her mind. Instead, I watched them. Oli knew he was there. She knew he was a dog. And she knew he was a puppy. Oli was okay with her little remora. I removed him before he pushed his luck too much, but it was clear that they'd reach The Day - the day that the Crocodile Hunter became a dog and not a bunny.
Today we let them play in the house. At first she didn't see him as a playmate, but he was persistent . . . and cute, . . . and so she finally gave in and played with Steve Irwin.
They started on the couch . . .
. . . and moved . . .
. . . to the floor . . . 
And like an idiot, I watched them, happy they were having such a good time. Yep, I watched them. I watched them crawl under a glass top coffee table. (why do Dog People have glass furniture!!!) And then I watched Oli stand up . . . taking the glass top with her. And then . . . then she said, "Holy Shit!" and she dropped like a rock . . . and so did the glass table top.
Steve Irwin was delighted. The resulting crash was very impressive. Oli ran. The Crocodile Hunter bounced beside her, "Blimey, Dangerous Beast! Do that again!!!!"
No, no one was hurt. Yes, we now have a new coffee table.
