January 7, 2013
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Woof Burps
Today is trash day.
Trash day is not hard to recognize in this house: it is the day we have to chuff and trot and bark all day long. The trashmen are everywhere, shinnying up the sides of houses, sliding over the back fences, parking blatantly in the fronts of house where they steal our trash. This is without a doubt the worst day of the week.
And what does Cheryl do about these invasions?
She sits at her keyboard and she says, “no barking, Annie. Be quiet, Annie. Annie, for God’s sake STOP BARKING.”
Trashmen could steal the whole house, but until they came after Cheryl’s chair she’d never notice.
And even worse than that, since we are in a telling mood: Cheryl is eating a bag of Cheetos, which is NOT on her diet, or ours, and whenever we hear the bag rustle we have to dash back into the Conservatory and nosebump her until she remembers her manners. Oh, and get this: she has a new trick up her sleeve now. She holds up something to which we are forever and entirely entitled to, and she won’t let us have it until she says, “Take it”. Like that: “Take it.” Like we were bumping her with our nose and stuff just because it feels good. There never was a time when we wouldn’t ‘take it’, but somehow it gives her a sense of power to give us ‘permission’.
Not a popular game with us, but it’s a lot better than the other one. ‘Leave it’. We plan never to learn ‘leave it’. We think if we just ignore her long enough, she’ll give up on that one because we can see NO advantage to learning ‘leave it’.
Something about eight feet tall that stinks and is covered with wet scales just tried to come in the front door. Do you think Cheryl noticed? Of course not. We had to warn her. Again.
Quiet, Annie.
How do you stay quiet when something eight feet tall, smelly and covered with wet scales tries to come into your house?
You should see what’s in the back yard.
And the roofers are still stomping around on the sky ledge. We hate that.
There’s just no way to get any rest here today. Even when we curl up to sleep, we accidentally let out the occasional little ‘woof’. Sleep, sleep, sleep, “Woof”, like burbs.
We know what’s coming next. It’s that evil man who wads up papers and shoves them through the hole in the front door. He comes here almost every day and shoves papers through the door! We ask you, what sort of person does that?
Sleep, sleep, sleep,*woof*
