The show Hoarders is a train wreck. It’s awful and horrifying but I can’t look away. The guy with all the rabbits? That were multiplying like…well, rabbits? And the one with all the chickens? I want to grab these people, give them a good shake, and gently distract them while I take all their animals to a farm and then torch their homes. Seriously, you’ve gotta start from scratch with that kind of mess.

I consider myself to be an anti-Hoarder. Okay, so I collect tiny vintage dog figurines and find it hard to toss things with sentimental value, but for the most part, throwing away and organizing gives me a thrill and keeps me sane. So imagine my surprise when I discovered that I’m raising not one, but two hoarders.

Exhibit A: The other night, Michael and I were sitting in the living room. I was working on my computer and we were watching TV (probably The Voice because we are obsessed). Michael kept looking away from the TV to the door with a puzzled look on his face. I tilted my head to see what he was looking at and saw a flash of brown fur disappear into the bedroom. Pancho is pretty much a weirdo a unique dog, so I ignored it, thinking he was playing a game with himself. A little while later, I saw him dash back and forth again — this time, I noticed it was from the kitchen to the bedroom. I decided to investigate. When I went into the kitchen, I saw that the lid to the garbage pail was askew, leaving access to all the dirty grossness beneath the lid. Then I went into the bedroom, where Pancho was coming out from under the bed. He stopped short and stared at me as if to say, “Oh, crap.” I peeked under the bed and there, I found enough trash to start a recycling program. He had been collecting it, piece by piece, over the last hour or so, hoping no one would notice and he could revel in all his disgusting glory later. I’ll spare you the details, but it was awful. And also hilarious. Because in what world does a giant long-haired chihuahua use stealth moves to store trash under a bed? Now it’s a huge joke between us. He thought he had us! We were so foolish! Not paying attention while he snuck it right under our very noses! Yeah, we’re going to make awesome parents.

Exhibit B: Leia hoards bits and pieces of rawhides. Each morning, we give her a small rawhide bone, and she chews it into tiny pieces. Some of them she swallows, some of them she ignores (and leaves them for our bare feet to find — oww), and some of them she hides. It’s common for me to pick up a T-shirt or other piece of clothing I have thrown on the floor and have several pieces of rawhide fall out of it. It’s her way of burying them, I guess.

Anyway, the other day, I found this adorable stash, hiding between the wall and my box of skinny clothes. Now remember, Leia is an Australian Shepherd, so she’s equal parts hyper, crazy, and paranoid. Plus she has to be ALLUPINMYBUSINESS no matter what I’m doing because hello, it’s her job to herd me everywhere I need to go for the rest of my life.

Maybe if I act nonchalant, she won’t notice my stash.

She’s noticed. Time to break out the sad eyes. Please don’t take them away!

Maybe if I play dead, she’ll feel sorry for me.

(Keep in mind that I was merely sitting on the floor and looking at the bones,
but she could not walk away. It was freaking her out that I was looking at them. WHATWASIGOINGTODOWITHTHEMOMGOMGOMG.)

I can’t handle the pressure. I’m taking what’s mine and getting out of here.

Look, they all fit!

Listen, lady, this is mine.

But now that you mention it, I’m getting kind of sleepy.

I might as well go ahead and eat it. It won’t be safe until I do!

Clearly she has a problem. I’d better hurry and get back into my counseling classes ASAP so I can help these dogs with their hoarding issues.

Also, yes, I posted 8 photos of my dog (9 if you count the one of Pancho). I’ll file this post under “crazy dog lady.” I wonder if they have any graduate level classes for self-treatment of insanity over one’s pets. Just curious.