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 170ª. 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. . .
 |
| PoopHead |
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.
RockDog
Woof!
Woof!
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