Thursday, September 4, 2014

Never Get a Smart Dog (A Public Service Announcement)

A Coco Haiku

oh, heartbreaker dog
you don't deserve that big hug
your heart is evil

innocent boy slave
drop the conniving pooch now
run for your life, son

My dog, Coco, and I are not getting along tonight because she can be one demanding pooch. 

This may be the biggest favor I ever do for my readers: take my advice and never get a smart dog. Sure, it seems like a smart dog would make life easier, but that is just a black hole of reasoning that will pull you in and masticate your soul as you face the realization that you now live with a creature that is smarter, faster and has far more free time that you ever will. You know I wouldn't spit out such a run-on sentence unless I meant business. And by the time you realize it, it's too late for you...everyone will side with the dog, because...well...she's the family dog...and she's cute.

Coco uses her free time in a variety of ways, each more sinister, and all part of a long range plan of world dominion - beginning with my home and family. For starters, she takes long, refueling naps. That seems so innocent until you realize she is resting so she can run around like a maniac when we get home or are trying to work or concentrate. It's part of her training regimen. When we're tired, she is ready to roll.

I'm not really sure how the next thing developed, but I think she is using free time to learn new things; sort of an independent, long distance learning program. Better check my credit card, because I don't know how she might have paid for such a thing. Surely, she didn't come up with all her craziness by herself. The list of skills she has mastered in order to control humans is staggering, and they're all specific to her. Normal dogs don't do these things. 

We decided long ago that if she were a dog superhero, her name would be Annoya.

For example, she is addicted to playing ball. Gladly, she'd skip all meals and naps to chase one of her balls three or four hundred times. And she's selfish, too; if you take her out for poodle potty party, she'll grab one of the balls. Lord, forbid you might touch it while she is gone...she doesn't trust us with her prized possessions. If she hands you the ball (and she WILL hand you the ball) and you ignore it, she'll tuck it in your chair carefully, even give it a little nudge to wedge it between your leg and chair. A gentle reminder that she requires your services. 

Still not throwing the ball? Coco smugly wanders over to the book shelf and turns toward me and stares. Everything about her body language says, "That's right...I'm going to do it."

"You wouldn't dare," I warn.

Phffft! She is in charge, Coco does what she pleases and punishes those who do not do her evil will. She turns around and grabs a book off the shelf and throws it on the floor. If necessary, she'll grab a second book; plop! Another one on the floor. I fire up my full correction mode and she stops...temporarily.

If company is here, her next move will be to go to the kitchen, open the door to the laundry room, and head for the laundry basket. Sorting through the basket, she looks for the next item to get my attention diverted from my visitors. Ah, there it is - my underwear. It's a lovely sight as she arrives with my panties. She is a very small dog; I'm a plus sized flipster. She looks like a paratrooper who has just landed and is dragging the full parachute behind her, and the parachute is pink. Bringing my bloomers out for company always brings a smile to everyone's face - but mine.

Lately, her high priced doggie allergy medicine - which seems to be doing the job, thank the Lord - has made her just a little more active. I needed that like I needed my uterus put back in. For years, I've been waiting for doggie senior citizen status to arrive and slow her down. The whole spiel about how one human year is equal to seven dog years is mularky. This dog is firmly planted at a youthful human age of about twenty; specifically a human who is on an Olympic team and sprints like she already has a gold medal hanging from her collar.

Do I get sympathy? NO. Everyone thinks Coco is just great. She's just a sweet little dog. 

The picture shows her true nature; poor Gonzo just loves her furry wonderfulness. Meanwhile, Coco is thinking: "Sure, I'll let your boy hug me. He can reach the treat jar. Score. Make it snappy, boy. Wrap it up."



13 comments:

  1. How long did it take her to train you?

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    1. I'm a slow learner and still learning. I guess the bulk of my training took five years. I could have gone back for a human degree in something more interesting that animal slave studies.

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  2. Good morning, dear Cherdo.
    It is I, superhero Shady Della, the very funny fella.

    I believe every word you wrote. Coco es muy loco. For months your evil fur baby has been transmitting telepathic messages ordering me to kill. She needs to be stopped before my resistance weakens and I obey her malevolent commands!

    Your stories remind me of my beloved Cocker Spaniel Toto and how she controlled and manipulated us for 14 years. In Toto's rule book, snoozing was a privilege reserved for her alone. If she caught me trying to take a nap on the sofa, she'd stand six inches from my face and begin a series of murmurs that grew progressively louder if I didn't get up and play with her. Eventually the murmurs turned into growls and barks and she would bat me on the head with her paw. It was like undergoing a bizarre method of torture at Gitmo. Toto had an assortment of play balls. Her favorites were two 10-inch diameter plush balls which she loved to run after, attack and chew. Like Coco, Toto was high maintenance and way too smart, but I miss that pooch every day.

    Coco is a handful but I'm sure you'd be the first to admit that she's also a heartful. Give thanks that you have such a healthy, youthful, active and smart pet as a member of your family. Give her all the love and attention you can while you are lucky enough to have her.

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    1. Oh, she has every last one of us wrapped around her finger...er, paw. But when she wants attention, she just won't take no for an answer and I'm amazed at the lengths she'll go.

      I think I mentioned (on the blog) that she was dognapped for a month - right at Christmas time last year. Neighborhood kids, who know about her wide range of tricks and friendliness, called her out of the yard. The street is pretty far from my actual house, there's three houses on a loooooong drive, and my yard is over three acres, my neighbors is probably five or six acres, but the drive attachs to an actual neighborhood. Coco will gladly go to any kid; in fact, she'll cry and whimper when she hears their voices. They scooped her up and took her home. Then some little stinkpot also took down the "Missing Dog" fliers.

      I preyed upon their humanity by stopping and asking the suspected 'nappers if they'd seen her, and mentioning that she needed to take medicine, etc., every time I saw them. And one day, they miraculously "found" her.

      In spite of my complaints, I'd take a bullet for her, ha ha. But please...don't send a bullet my way...it's a personal preference.

      Enjoy the day and be well, dear friend!

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    2. It's disturbing to learn that Coco was dognapped. I am very happy to learn that you got her back unharmed.

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  3. Dognapping is cruel. Someone who lived with me for a short time dognapped a neighbor's chihuahua. I was furious. Through my careful wheedling, the dog went home without me calling the owners and saying, I know where your dog is: my house. I love the haiku. My dogs are smart, but compared to Coco, they seem idiots. I'll keep it that way. The Hurricane adopted a labradoodle when she was in high school. I think The Hurricane had to go away to college to get some sleep. She would wake up in bed with 75-pound Emma standing over her, Emma's face inches from The Hurricane's. Emma was ready to get up and play and God help The Hurricane if she didn't obey.

    Love,
    Janie

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    1. Off the record (the Internet is totally private), I could have wrung their necks, as my grandma would say, when they took my dog.

      Love, Cherdo

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    2. Point them out and I'll have them take care of.

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    3. As my middle son once commented: "You want I should whack 'em, boss?"

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  4. My dog seems to have figured out that if she stares at me a long time, I'll give her a treat or take her outside. So now I'm having to train her that it doesn't work that way!

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    1. They figures us out quicker than we can react.

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  5. Dogs. The weird thing is, when you don't have them, this is the kind of crap that makes you smile and miss having them.

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    1. It is, indeed, this kind of crap.... :-)

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Thanks for your personal yada, yada, yada,
Love, Cherdo