Friday, March 21, 2014

RockDog. . . on Being Left Behind

I can’t believe she is actually walking out the door without me. . . AGAIN.

First, Kona for an eternity. Then to Phoenix for another long time. And now this???

She’s not even flying, she’s driving Sooby and she knows I go everywhere with her in the car? I know she was going to take me and then Forty West’s mom sent a text that he wanted to come play for the day. She thought I would be happy about that, so decided I should stay home. I am happy to run on Easy Street with Forty but what about after he goes home, and she’s gone for another two days?

It’s too quiet here, and the dogsitters have gone out for a while. They were suppose to take me to agility class today but got too busy with the other dogs in camp. I am bored and lonely for my mom, even with eight other dogs. They are content to sleep and I’m ready for some action. Think I will get on the kitchen counter to do some surfing. There must be something good to eat up there that will make me feel better.

How can I possibly get up there? Mom has cocker-proofed the house and there is nothing close to the kitchen counter to climb on. But I do remember getting in the oven in North Carolina and finding all those yummy liver bites that were drying at 170ยช. That dogsitter there found me inside the warm oven chowing down on the last of the 3 lbs of fresh treats. That was when mom went sailing in Belize without me. The nerve!

I will just see if there is anything cooking here in this oven. But there is no towel on the door to grab onto and pull down? Looks like I may have to use the weight of my front paws to push the door down. That should do the trick. Push, Push, Push, Slam. Darn it! This is tougher than it looks.

Push, Push, Push, Slam! I am persistent.

Push, Push, Push, Push, and Viola! The oven door is down, but it is empty inside – not even a scrap. Grrrrr! No liver treats today. But wait, if I stand on the door it’s just a small hop onto the kitchen counter where all things good reside. . . .Counter surfing time! Yippppeee!

I clear the counter in one try and my nose leads me directly to a bowl of chocolate that smells like nasty coffee, something called espresso beans. Ugh! I will pass on that. There must be something better up here.

Moving on. . . what is this stuff? Lick, Lick Smack - tastes like coconut, kind of greasy but still good. Gone in a flash, and I’m still hungry.

What do we have here, inside two plastic bags? The smell is enticing even through the barriers. The plastic is gross but the brownies inside are scrumptious. If I can have these every time she leaves, I will be happy. I know they belong to the visiting dogs but I cannot resist eating almost all of them, only leaving a few behind. Hopefully no one will notice.

Maybe I should get off the counter now before the dogsitters return and catch me in the act. I’m not missing mom so much now, and am happy to join the other dogs for a nap. I still can’t believe I was double-crossed and left behind to fin for myself. Sigh. . . hiccup, hiccup.

Dreaming of chocolate brownies, I hear the dogsitters return home but pretend to be asleep. They gasp at the pieces of plastic lying on the floor – sounds like I’m busted. Apparently the glucosamine chewies meant for Isis and Zep for their arthritis are missing. Those were medicine brownies? You could have fooled me - they were yummy! Sorry guys, but they tasted incredible.

Try as I might to look innocent I’m still in trouble. They simple can’t believe a dog opened the oven door and used it as a stepping-stone to surf the kitchen counter. But the good news is they are not sure if it was Anne or me, so we are both in the doghouse! (Anne glares at me with a smirk on her face)

The dogsitters take us for a run outside. They are still perplexed and trying to solve the Whodunit mystery. We return home and they have the audacity to actually leave again! I can’t believe we are home alone for the second time today. Since they are not sure who did the counter-surfing, they put both Anne and I in the big crate together, while the other seven dogs are free to roam the house. It’s a bit crowded in here, but somehow we manage to lie on one another for yet another nap.

My tummy hurts but it’s my own fault for being a glutton. Consuming over twenty brownies is a bit much even for a chowhound like me. Loud, rumbling noises are erupting from deep inside me, growing louder and louder. Anne has a panicked look in her eyes because she recognizes the sound of diarrhea when she hears it. Of course a poop would make it all better. But, how? And, WHERE? I’m locked up in a crate with Anne Banane so I will have to hold it. But, but. . .

I don’t think I can. Try as I might to keep everything inside, the liquid pours out of my butt and hits Banane smack on top of her blonde head, in the middle of her mop-top. UGH! Poor Banane is devastated! I look at her in shame, but she knows I can’t help it and she too, has no place to run.

Finally the explosion is over and we are left in a crate full of crap, and the smell is gross even by our standards. Anne is paralyzed, unable to move for fear of stepping in more shit. This is how the dogsitters found us.

One look at us and we were no longer in trouble. The mystery is solved and the culprit has been identified by the process of elimination – no pun intended. Anne could not have possibly pooped on her own head. So that leaves me, RockDog. Busted! What a job the dogsitters had cleaning up the mess and bathing the two of us. We are so happy to be clean again! Anne has forgiven me with one stipulation - I must include her in any future counter-surfing adventures.

Clean at Last!
My stomach is empty and my body is clean, shiny and dry. Is it time to eat yet? BTW, when is mom coming home? Please tell her that I promise never to counter-surf again. . . well, unless I’m left home again for no apparent reason.

Woof! Woof!