I think my dog is out to kill me. My mutt is a cross breed of Chi-hua-hua, Cocker Spaniel, and..after DNA testing, probably a little bit of Beagle. I call him a Chaniel, pending the DNA results. If the bit of beagle comes into play then he will be a Speagle, or a Cheagle, or a Chow-wow..or he can just remain on a shelf with the rest of the Chia -pets. In the meantime I think he may have also put a hit out on me. While walking him one day ,a neighboring canine ran up and lifted his hind leg onto my Levi’s and then ran off. More like a hit and run.
My Black and white miniature cow has been lurking around corners and staring at me through squinty-eyes. He started to conceal his dog tags in between his teeth like a bayonet and slither through the Polyester Pile on his underbelly so I won’t hear them jingle when he sneaks up on me. He lays across the room spread out in a full Monty sleeping with one eye open. I’ll take a break from the computer and stroll downstairs for a cup of java and find him already at the espresso machine foaming an additive into my cappuccino and slowly stirring the contents. He was wearing the same facial expression of Hannibal Lecter when he offered Clarice a glass of wine….
My dog has been with us for nearly two years and we have had a despicable time of it lately. I don’t know if this is a product of the “terrible twos” or maybe he’s having flashbacks of his “night of neutering”. Maybe I needed to do a little more research on what happens to young pups who have their valves shut off so early in life. Maybe I cut off a very important life line…....Maybe I’ll just phone a friend or ask the blogiance… In the meantime his behavior is out of sorts and he is regressing back to his puppy-dom and completely obliterating any training he may have had in the past. I tried enlisting him in the Marines but because he was a rescue of some kind we are unable to locate his birth certificate for verification. It seems I’ve pulled the trump card…….. Sending him to boot camp would be fruitless. He defies authority and goes commando baring his canines; and, thanks to my husband feeding him gourmet delicacies from Dean & DeLuca, he would never handle the canteen cuisine. Plus I doubt the high ranking officials would allow him to curl up like a cooked shrimp under their sheets in the officers quarters.
Lately my pup has been grabbing items from his toy basket and leaving them strategically about for me to trip and fall and ending up in the emergency room. Knowing my dog, he would re-set the ambulance GPS to deliver me to his Vetinarian’s office. Once I was comfortably situated on the family room floor watching the Dog Whisperer scream at a pair of Pit Bulls, and my precious pooch dragged his faux marrow bone and dropped it onto the top of my head. This startled me to rise quickly and catch the corner of the coffee table with my right temple brandishing a two inch scrape above my right eye. He pranced over to the corner carrying his rawhide in his smug mug leaving me behind to lick my own wounds. Ha! in a pig’s ear…
I can feel my pup watching me. His bulging eyes rotate around the room following every move I make ,exactly like the pictures that hang in Disney’s Haunted Mansion. I just know he is planning my demise. His favorite tactic is to jump on my chest when I am engrossed in sleep apnea and plant his poundage on my blood supply …I’m sure he’s trying to regulate my blood pressure to increase beyond repair. This hound basks in his little villa parading around in all his black and white coat of Paws, and doesn’t think twice about trailing his kibble and bits down the main staircase knocking about like a pool of marbles. He knows I run around barefoot throughout the house . He’s turning my feet into arch enemies with the hardwood floors.
I caught my pupster running off to a neighbor with a distress bark in his throat trying to get them to call the PETA hot line because I no longer set his dog dish by the glass slider so he can have a window seat during dinner. He has their number on speed dial. One time a neighbor galloped over in a heated rush to check if the dog was “alright”, because he had outlined “call 9-1-1” onto the foggy window with his cold snout. I reassured her that my puppy was fine and that he was just upset because the high humidity was causing his tail to curl up and fray on the ends….
My doggie likes to disappear out back when he is released into the fence-less yard. He likes to try to get out from under my view and hide behind the large pine trees and slink into the tall grass and watch me running circles around the house yelling his name in a panic. One day I had him followed when he went on one of his escapades and he was later caught in a neighboring yard plotting with another raggedy mutt. I think there may have been some treats exchanging in little paws. My dog was seen leaving with cookie contraband dangling from his snaggle-tooth. I ran twenty-five minutes between houses before I could manage a noose around his neck. Yeah..his tail was between his legs as I led him back to the gallows……
I was so angry I was sputtering single syllables like Porky Pig. I was walking so fast in a dither and spewing doggie expletives while dragging my mangy mutt to his den of inequity, that I failed to notice he was not on the other end of the leash. Houdini managed to escape his full metal jacket.
I found him lounging in a chair on the Lido Deck extending a four-paw salute………catch me if you can….
He’s killing me….