Lots of sleep last night...so I woke up at a more “normal” hour this morning (4:30) and popped in a movie and went to task on some more stuff for school. Got things taken care of, showered and shaved, ironed clothes, made lunch, plenty of time to spare. I said to myself, you know, you should put your lunch in your truck so you dont forget it. Thinking this was a smart move, I moved toward the front door in my post-morning-shower attire…gym shorts and a t-shirt. As I passed the couch, I reached down and gave The Boy a loving morning pat, and was greeted by the thump of his Louisville Slugger tail against the cushions. Click…I unlock the door. That’s when I heard it…the unmistakable sound of dog paws and nails against the laminate floor. By now I have the door open. Knowing, from experience, what his next move was, I pushed the door toward the shut position and clenched my legs together like I was trying to prevent giving birth. At that moment, Jim Brown, reincarnated into my dog, hit the back of my knees with the force of a PBR bull who knew who the exact person was who tied the rope around his nuts. The Boy was out. He sailed off the front stoop and slammed on the brakes…to the point where his paws scraped the grass up in his tracks. He looked back at me, as if to say “Uh…you comin’ bro?” I knew what was coming. Yet, still, like the idiot I am, I motioned toward him… I’ve never seen a damn dog run so fast. He tore out of the yard like a scalded cat, limbs flying, tail circling, jowls flapping like flags on the beach. Within 10 yards, he had found his gait…lean and low, he suddenly transformed into a freakin’ thoroughbred. I shook my head, stepped over my Zip-Loc’d sandwich that I had dropped on the porch, and went back into the house to get my running shoes. We’ve done this before. I made sure the door was unlocked, left it cracked open, and strolled out into the yard, directing my attention to the top of the hill where he usually goes…the cul-de-sac. The little bastard was waiting for me, 8 houses down, tail wagging, butt in the air. He wants to play “chase.” So…off I go, jogging at first, then full sprint as I closed in, knowing I was not going to make it…I guessed left…he went right…I watched him take off back down the hill. I swear to Christ he was laughing at me. Now, fully pissed and draped in stifling morning humidity, I summoned my inner Olympiad and sprinted down the hill…right past him…he broke to the right toward a gate that was keeping another barking dog at bay…I stopped, turned around, only to see him digging at the gate like he had found The Lost Ark. I ran up to him, and just as reached for his collar, he circled back past me and was off again, further down the hill. Knowing that I had the door open, I hoped to God that he would tire and go into the house. No. Past the house, FURTHER down the hill toward the bus stop. Bus stop. Bus stop…kids. Kids. Shit. He is a sweet, big, dumb dog, but he has a deep, bellowing bark and looks like he could take the bumper off a police cruiser. The last thing I need is for my dog to scare the crap out of a group of little kids as they waited for the bus, sending the neighborhood into a panic. I could see it unfolding without some sort of Devine intervention. Thankfully, a neighbor came outside, involved in his own morning routine. This was enough to spook The Boy back up the hill. I just stood there at the base of the driveway, now livid with my decision to put my lunch in the truck. I looked at my sandwich, still in the Zip-Loc, sitting hopelessly on the front stoop, just outside the door. So did he. Now, I can’t be sure, but I’m pretty sure I heard the theme of The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly whistling in the background. And there may have been a tumble weed. Nevertheless , we both made our move. Before I could say “you little son of a…,” he had my sandwich in his mouth and was ripping and whipping the bag around like a Great White shark on a pelican. The bright side…he took it into the house. I moved in behind him, slamming the door. It was then he realized “oops…I’m in trouble.” So, of course, he peed. Like a race horse. He then dropped what was left of my sandwich into the urine lake, and casually trotted into his kennel, tail between his legs. Needless to say, I had to take another shower. Further needless to say, I was late for work. Even further needless to say, The Boy and I have not spoken since. Tomorrow, I’m buying my lunch.
Posted on: Wed, 04 Jun 2014 01:58:56 +0000
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