December 6, 2012
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Bored
Bored, bored, bored.
The terrier is bored.
The terrier is bored because Cheryl closed the door.
Cheryl is mean.
Riley is still outside.
Cheryl likes Riley more than she likes the terrier.
The terrier has raced inside to report 17 consecutive bad deeds performed by Riley, and the terrier was dutifully reporting bad deeds being perpetrated by the people across the street when Cheryl came along and made the terrier come inside.
Where is the fairness?
Dullard lab-mix/active, involved terrier-mix.
There is nothing to do inside this house.
We would chew stuff, but that makes Cheryl mad.
We would play bark-and-chase with the cat, but that makes Cheryl and the cat mad.
This is really, really not fair.
And boring.
Usually when we’re bored we go into the Conservatory and find something of Cheryl’s and chew it. This calms our nerves, and besides, it teaches her not to ignore us. Yesterday she was playing with the keyboard and ignoring us and we got down a plant hanger-thingy and chewed that into 100 pieces (we had to split the decorative beads into two to get our count that high) and then we trotted conspicuously into other rooms carrying her crocs before she came to life and said:
(and we quote here:)
“What the hell…?”
Now we have curled up into a little ball on the couch and we are going to have to sleep because there is NOTHING TO DO IN THIS HOUSE.
We are a dog. We are supposed to bark.
Riley gets to bark.
He barks at squirrels, for Christsake.
That’s fine with Cheryl.
We bark at space invaders and loud talkers and sidewalk thieves and Cheryl yells at us.
We don’t even know why we bother to live her.
Wait.
Is that…peanut butter…?
