Thursday, May 18, 2017
Pocket and the Orange Stick
My parents have tried for nearly ten years to curb my freedom to bark whenever I please. They have sprayed me with water, tugged my leash, used several commands, snapped their fingers, nudged me, tried to distract me with food, and even pay me off. I defeated them every time.
Lately, they have carried an orange back scratcher and given me a scooch in the butt when I barked. I turned around and barked at the stick. I never got hit with the scratcher. No matter how much I bark a human hitting a dog with a stick is never a good look.
My parents were resigned to being the embarrassment of the neighborhood whose every walk was accompanied of five pounds of bark.
Then, a few nights ago, during a walk, in the middle of a barking rant, Daddy tapped the stick figure on the ground, next to me. It startled me, and I stopped barking. Oh, darn! Something worked. I would have to beat the tapping scratcher. I scanned the horizon and began to bark again.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“What was that?” I stopped barking. It was that damn orange stick! I was not going to be defeated by a little piece of wood. We continued our walk. We saw a zombie taking his early evening walk. We love barking at him. A few barks, a few taps, and I gave in again. I could hear Foley shaking her head in disgust.
Then I heard a dog barking inside a house. Nothing gets me worked up like another dog barking. I gave it right back to him. Then the infernal tapping began again, and it made me stop. I hate that scratcher. River follows my barks, so he stopped too.
We went around a corner. There was a woman walker who had just got her mail. She was walking on the other side of the street in the same direction as she was. Normally I would bark at her every step demanding she gives me some attention. But I was discombobulated by that darn scratcher. I couldn’t muster an arf. The woman looked at us and said: “They so want to bark don’t they?”
I let loose with some frustrated barks. She asked for it! But there was tapping, and I stopped again. It wasn’t fair. That woman mocked me.
I am going to have to think about this. I am going to have to ask myself WWFD? (What would Foley do?”) I have to defeat the scratcher for dogs everywhere.
The resistance to the stupid, big, orange stick figure is on!
at May 18, 2017
Larry, the wooden zebra, did not want to be rude. But he was at a bizarre interlude. There was someone who mounted him, giving him a l...
Are you a trip hazard? Have your parents ever tripped over you? How often? Did anyone get injured
Last year Pocket and I went to see a marvelous show called Jersey Boys. In it the character of the bassist for the Four Seasons, Nick Mas...