“Arrivederci”,
“Adios”, “Ciao”, “Au Revoir” “See you
later, alligator”, “Woof-woof”. There may be fifty ways to leave your lover,
but there are at least 100 ways to say good-bye to your dog. And I hate every one of them! Because it means
that my people are leaving me alone while they go somewhere fun, like the
grocery store or a restaurant (both of which I have heard are awesome places).
So where does that leave me? Spending hours frustratingly trying to open bags
and boxes that I’ve pulled from the counter top or kitchen pantry, staring out
the back door at squirrels who mock my inability to chase their furry little
butts, and running from window to window barking furiously at the neighbors who
have the nerve to walk their dogs right in front of MY yard. But the very worst
good-byes? When I catch Tanya and Todd packing suitcases! This means that I too,
will soon be sent packing – off to the Home for Wayward Dogs - otherwise known
as the kennel, or sometimes disgustingly referred to as the “puppy spa”. What
BS! Why would I possibly want to relinquish my comfy couch, yard, and spot on
Tanya and Todd’s bed, in order to spend several days in a mosh pit of unruly
canines, sharing both my personal and my potty space? I know it’s been years,
but don’t Tanya and Todd remember what dorm life was like? Sleeping with a
whining, homesick, neophyte on one side, and an all-night party animal on the
other! How am I supposed to get my beauty rest?! While I’ll grudgingly admit
that the opportunity to flaunt my specialness in front of a large group of far less
superior dogs (they call it “play-time”) does do wonders to stroke the ego, I
really am perfectly secure in my self-grander and have no need to be idolized
by anyone but my adoring humans.
So when the suitcases came out this time, I hatched my plan of sabotage.
I waited patiently (gotcha - you didn’t think I knew what “patience” meant, did
you?) until the two large bags were sitting open on the master bedroom floor, completely
filled with neatly folded human-wear like swimsuits and Hawaiian shirts. Then,
when Tanya and Todd had once again left me alone to do what-ever-it-is they do,
I struck! Nabbing a package of jumbo marshmallows procured after opening the
pantry door, I took them to the bedroom, tore them open, and began my slobbery
work. When my masterpiece was complete, I then carefully removed two of Tanya’s
blouses from her suitcase, wadded them up on the floor, and glued them together
with a nice, gooey mass of yumminess! Hasta la Vista, baby!
While the satisfaction was maybe not quite worth the retribution I
endured when my handiwork was discovered, I did achieve a partial victory. No
kennel this time – I got to have my favorite replacement human, Howie, come
spend a few days with me, and then I got to enjoy some quality time at Jake and
Brynlee’s (other favorite humans) with my nephew Westin, a vizsla. And Westin
simply adores me. How could you not - I come bearing marshmallows.
