I love it when Janelle tells it like it is!(Most the time....)
Your friend,
john
Tank is our Rottweiler. Big, beautiful, goofy and too darned smart.
Ok… so there I was, first thing this morning, semi-comatose, slowly maneuvering the car from the house toward the studio, when peripherally, I spy a black flash, racing through our woods vectoring on a course certain (he believes) to result in collision between us at the end of the driveway.
“Hah!”, I think, “Foolish Fool!
I am going to the studio and YOU think I am going somewhere where you can sneak a ride with me!!! Ha ha, Stupid!”
Chuckling to myself, I pull up beside the studio, and laughing at my own subterfuge, throw open the door to get out of the car. I twist to exit and am met face to face, with TANK; midleap, landing gear up, bulls eyed toward the interior of the car. “NOOOOoooooOOOOOOOooooooOOOOOO!!!!! Baaaaaaad Doggy!!” I shout in what seems slow motion.
“GUMmmPH” I roar as he hits me full in the chest and lands in the passenger seat perching awkwardly on my lunchpail and purse. Butt wiggling uncontrollably all over my lunch. Yuck!
TANK!! GET OUT!!! I yell with the hoarseness associated with explosive oxygen deprivation. He leaps into the backseat sensing that deeper in the bowels of the automobile, he would be harder to dislodge.
“Fine,” I wheeze and stomp off to the studio, leaving the car door open, figuring he would follow me into the building.
I mess around in the studio; time elapses… and no Tanky. About to leave I think, “Hmmm… Wonder if Tanky is still in the car- better bring a couple of cookies with me to bribe him out.”
Smart Human- Stupid doggy strategy.
I walk back outside and look at the car; I see no Tanky. I reward my ingenuity with a cookie.
Munch munch mun………
Uh ohhhhhhh…
Sighting in on black blob down low in rear seat …two shiny black eyes staring at me.
ALERT ALERT this is not a drill.
I open the back door of the car. “TAAANnkkkkyyyyyy…… whanna cookie, hunnnny?” I say in the sweetest Beverly Hillbilly Granny voice I can muster.
He doesn’t budge.
“Seeeeeeee??? Yum yum cookie,” and I mimick eating one, smacking my lips.
Movement.
He suspiciously emerges from the car.
He knows something is up.
I give him a cookie and make a move to shut the back door.
Before I can shut the golldang door, he vaults back into the rear seat, nub-a-wigglin’.
I sense that I am approaching the critical hour from when I HAVE to leave home to make it to work on time.
“Here Tanky….. cookie cookie coooooooooookie! Tanky butt…… mommie’s litto tanky poo, hunny bunny woooo woooo, litto tanky num nums ” . Not one of his magnificent muscles quiver.
I am more desperate.
“TANK! GIT YER ASS OUTTA MY CAR!,” I yell in the most authentic Johnnybigvoice I can imitate.
It works!
He leaps out of the car, snatches the two cookies I have left.
In one decisive action, I dive through the driverside window -turn the key- and roar down the driveway before he can leap thru the window after me.
Finally on my way to work, very nearly late, I start to think about my victory over the beast.
Geesh, all he wanted was a ride and I yelled at him.
He loves me and wants to be with me. That’s all he wants. Is that so bad? No one else would want to ride with me. Nobody. He doesn’t want money or property or baubles and bling. He just wants to share life with me, and get his Slim Jim original when we stop at a store. Or his baby size vanilla ice cream cone, or his doggie snack from the bank.
Here he was all bounding with joy, just happy to be with me… why, he almost refused his favorite cookie treats in order to be with me. He just loves me.
ME, scum that I am.
In tears, I decide to quit my job and stay home with my Tanky….. someday.
The end.
Topic: For Dog Lovers, from my wife, Janelle (Read 1914 times)