Live....live....live! Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
DOES A BEAR SHIT IN THE WOODS?
It schnowed yesterday. There was white stuff on the ground in Pittsburgh the day I was born, but I was only three hours old and don’t remember it. Naturally, I was pretty suspicious of the mysterious forces at work and barked my adorable head off till HE let me out. HE’s the one who told me it was schnow. HE thinks HE knows everything- when I should eat, what I am allowed to play with, what time I should walk, for cryin’ out loud! The list goes on, but I won’t bore you the way HE does me. Suffice it to say that we’ll call it “schnow” just to get HIM off my adorable back.
I’ll be one year old in just a few short weeks and at this point, I have a pretty good handle on things. HE worked (completely ignoring me, as usual) way too long yesterday & I’ll admit...I was a little bored, so I shredded the mail and chewed the corner off a place mat because I could. HE was suitably impressed with my handiwork and spoke loudly at me for quite a while. “Job well done!” was all I could think, as I sashayed my adorable ass downstairs in search of adventure.
The clink of keys in the kitchen distracted me enough to drop my goof ball and fly (as if on gossamer wing) to the door, determined to not be banished to THE CRATE...
Surprisingly, I was told I could “tag along” (honestly, HE treats me like a baby!) and run some errands. Trust me, I know what errands are- a boney at the bank, a rawhide at the post office and maybe, just maybe, an open window in the truck, so that my adorable ears might flap in the (much cooler than Cuban) wind.
With aforementioned boney firmly planted in my adorable mouth, we headed home. I tried to steer but HE is always in my way. The French Bull dog next door was on patrol, so I made a quick pish and slinked inside before she could spot me. (Don’t get me started on the French!) For something completely different, HE proceeded to talk on the phone for hours, ignoring me, so I slipped downstairs again and heavily drooled on one (only one!) of HIS “favorite” slippers. When HE discovered me gnawing on it, I got lots of attention, so I’ll be sure to try that again soon.
All in all, a pretty average day. I sneaked outside when I overheard HIM talking with the Russians across the road about me being the only Havanese within 100 miles, and of course, they were waxing rhapsodic over my countless adorable charms, so I loped off into the woods. I suppose that I should explain that we live in the woods, so pretty much everywhere you look is, well...woods.
For some unknown reason, I have gathered (by HIS endless blabbering) that I am not supposed to explore said woods on my own. “Bite me!”, I said under my adorable puppy breath and took off like a bat (yep, I know what a bat is- had one in the kitchen) out of Hell, which is apparently a place I’ll be visiting at some point soon, according to HIM.
I picked up a schtick, dropped it, found a pine cone- dropped it- and stopped dead in my tracks. My adorable nose twitched, dripped a little and quivered uncontrollably. Suddenly, I remembered one of HIS many phone calls revolving around a bear that had been spotted the day before. ‘Course, I didn’t believe HIM ( he makes stuff up all the time!) and I didn’t see the stupid bear, (if I’m being totally honest, they freak me out a little) so I only had HIS word...until that glorious moment, finally alone for one damn second, adorable paws firmly rooted in bear shit. In the woods. Alone.
I scouted for eye witnesses and proceeded to roll. It was so fresh, that it was still moist (maybe from the “schnow”?) and I was able to get the shit really imbedded in my hair. (I’ve heard that other dogs have fur, whatever that is, but not the Havanese!). I rolled, dove & leaped about with an air of dignity rarely seen while cavorting in a steaming pile of shit. Torn from my reverie by the (kinda loud) sound of HIS voice booming in my general direction, I was startled and panicked for a brief, shining moment.
I considered my options (knowing that it was only a matter of time) and decided to hide the evidence in the best way possible, so I ate it. Well, you’d think I was spawned by Satan herself the way HE carried on. Was not (even slightly) amused by the amazing aroma that I had acquired (all by my adorable self, thank you). No praise, no proverbial pat on the back- in fact, HE shrieked (like a damn girl scout) grabbed me (kinda ruff) and literally chased me around the house, completely ignoring the Russians (so rude) screaming his bloody(not so adorable) head off until I acquiesced (dogs have vocabularies too, ya know), doing my doggone best to look sheepish (whatever that is) and avoid trouble.
Still smarting from the infamous “skunk incident” last July, I was in no mood. I raced around the house, leaving remnants of bear shit on the couch, the rug, (was only on the bed for a minute for cryin’ out loud) and apparently, the effluvia (look it up) was permeating the entire house, which I would think was a good thing, but apparently not so much.
Once HE got a hold of me again (and got some bear shit on his hands) it was over. HE screamed and ranted and raved, drawing a bath (aarrgh!) while holding me by the scruff of my adorable neck. I think the worst is over, but HE still seems to be a little pissed - muttering about the puppy breath being a “thing of the past”...who knows? I try to not pay attention to his constant drivel and just do my thing, knowing full well that I will be forgiven. Why does HE love me so? I’m Dharma, dammit- and freakin’ adorable.