My dog barks.
While this may appear to be an elementary statement, it is much more than that. You see, my dog barks like a flipping idiot — all the time.
She yaps at every living creature that dares to pass by. And some inanimate objects as well. If ever a rogue leaf decides to take over our home, we will be advised well in advance.
Several times a day she will yelp in the kitchen, banging her metal dish as backup accompaniment.
But, as irritating as these other semi-normal dog responses are, there is something she does that absolutely puts all of us over the edge. A kazillion times a day, she will roll one of her tennis balls under furniture, then yowl incessantly until one of us retrieves it. It’s her own take on fetch. It doesn’t matter that three other balls are scattered less than two feet away, the one she wants is out of reach. Ignore her if you’d like, but she’s not going to stop. Finally, one of us is forced to lift the couch two feet in the air. Slowly she saunters underneath, sometimes lying down to give it a good chew. All the while the poor sucker who bothered to help her—arms cramping from the weight of the seven foot sofa—is howling for her to get out.
So, why do I put up with her crazy behaviour? How has she (and all of us) survived ten years of this irrational existence? Well, it’s because of the other reason she barks.
Whether away for ten days or ten minutes, her response upon my arrival home is always the same . . . she will yap and yelp in sheer ecstasy for me.
Yeah, I guess I’ll put up with the hairy terror. Who else is going to give me ‘red carpet moments’ several times a day? I only wish I could become the person she thinks I am. Clearly she truly is an idiot to think so highly of me.