A Dog's Day Off

A Dog's Day Off
by Tresa Martin

People have to be the most puzzling species on the earth. I'm always lying around pondering their strangeness. They think I'm sleeping, of course. They think all us dogs have to do is lie around and sleep, eat and poop. I've heard 'em say that enough. And there's that joke they like so much. What does a dog do on his day off? Never really understood why that's so funny. Like we ever get a day off.

But here's an example of what I mean. The other day one of my people threw a stick for me to fetch, which in itself is pretty bizarre. I mean you don't see them running around with sticks in their mouths. It doesn't taste good and it's rough on the gums. But we dogs get used to meaningless games like that. Anyway, he threw the stick way the hell across the yard and I dutifully chased after it like an idiot. Like that was just what I had been waiting for . . . a dirty old stick to brighten up my day. But when I got there, my nose was overwhelmed by this fabulous smell leading into the bushes. Oh glory be! It was the neighbor's cat, crouched there hissing and growling to beat the band. Now I knew this cat wasn't supposed to be in our yard coz I'd heard her people call her home before. So I felt it was my dogly duty to chase it over the fence. Ever the helpful servant, I bristled and growled, rushing the cat, who sprang, claws extended upon my well-meaning head. This was unexpected, not to mention painful and so intent was I on dislodging the stupid thing, that I didn't hear my person yelling and running up. "Bad dog," he said and actually bopped me with the damn stick that got me in this fix to start with. He didn't hit me hard, but just the same, why, I ask you, did he do that? In the course of performing a free service, I'm attacked by the cat and the person too. I just don't understand.

Oooohhh. What's that? Oooh! Tickles! Do I smell it? Where . . . Oh, got it. Pesky little flea. I love it when they get where I can bite 'em. They taste pretty good and I like that little pop they make when you crunch 'em.

Where was I? Oh yeah. People. Just this morning, the foodgiver gave me some sausage left over from breakfast and . . . Oh man it was so juicy and tasty. Wish I had some more. Mmmmmmm. Yeah. And anyway, what I was gonna say was that she always puts the leftovers in my bowl and I'm supposed to keep all the food in there, without laying it on the floor first, so I can sniff out the best bit to start with. Gets all upset when I do that. You're just supposed to start at the top of the heap, blindly, without caring what might be underneath. Go figure.

But I love the foodgiver. As far as I'm concerned, she's the boss. I pretend to be the boy's dog, but really my heart lies with the foodgiver. When she commences the cooking sounds, I'm right there, even if I've been sound asleep. Mostly she just ignores me, but once in awhile, if I'm particularly cute and just the right touch of sad, she'll throw me something. And after the people eat . . . now that's when the real pay off comes. Oh there she goes now. Heading for the cooking room? Yes! What a gal. I'm coming. I'm right behind you.

She's going for the cold food box. All right! Stuff'll start happening now. She's taking out something. What is it? I can't tell. Can't get too close though. Big no no. Could get chunked outside for that. Oh, I see it. It's a chicken! I'm dancing. I'm twirling. Sometimes she thinks that's cute and gives me a sample. But today it's not working. I don't even think she sees me. She's just standing there holding the chicken. Suddenly she looks at me and smiles. Oh happy day! Is she going to throw me the chicken? I do a perfect pirouette and show my teeth. They call this smiling and are usually greatly impressed. "You know, I think we'll eat out today," she says to me happily. Shoving the bird back in the cold food box, she dashes out of the cooking room. I can't believe what just happened here. I have to lie down now.

Now the people are gone enjoying themselves, eating God knows what wonderful things. I gloomily examined the contents of my bowl. No bits of sausage hiding under the boring dry food to cheer me up. After checking twice, I resign myself to eating the kibbles. Why can't they make spaghetti flavored dog food?

But what's that? My super sonic canine ears have detected something. Yay! They're home. Trying to appear disinterested, I stroll to meet them. "Here you go, boy." The foodgiver dumps not one, but two pieces of pepperoni pizza into my bowl. There is a God and my people do love me.

Great! Now it is time for a walk with my boy. I love to see him take down the leash which hangs by the front door. Usually, it means a walk to the park which is right down the street. There's always a great many interesting smells there. But today we are going the other way. A little disappointed, I'm getting balky and won't walk right for my boy, who is getting aggravated with me. He tries pulling on the leash. I hate this and am really putting the brakes on until I finally see where he is going. He's heading for the little store down on the corner. I like that place. Usually he brings me something when he comes out. So obligingly, I pick up my pace and we run all the way to the store. Happily, I start to turn off, but the boy keeps going straight and this causes me to get a yank from the leash. Nothing I can do, but change course and keep running. Then the boy stops at the corner and this time, I keep going, which causes me to get another yank. Now this is really starting to suck. I watch the boy closely, sincerely wanting to improve our timing and at last we proceed smoothly to our destination.

What a dirty low down trick! I know this place. It's where dogs are made all clean and fluffy and have terrible smelling stuff sprayed in their coat. It is just too humiliating and my boy isn't even caring about my pleading eyes and miserable whines as they take me in the back and torture me. I'll come out smelling to high heaven and feeling like a damn sissy. Now why, I ask you does he do this stuff?

It's all so unfair. I'll just lick my paw and try to figure it all out. Oh yuk. That tastes terrible. Ugh. I can't lick that taste out of my mouth. Now I've got to get up and get some water. My bowl is in the noisy machine room. I don't hear anything right now though. But it always smells bad in here, kind of like that stuff they put on me come to think of it. Gee I hope they aren't going to think I want more of it on me. I'll just get a quick drink and leave. There it is. My water, but hey what is that? Hmmm. It smells pretty good, like I used to. Yes that's my wonderful natural scent. Oh no. I remember that box. It's what they took me to the hurting place in. What's it doing here? I'd better get out of here and quick. Uho, too late. Here comes my big person and he's already seen me. Run! Run! I don't want to go to the hurting place again. I'll be good. Umph. Oh that damn rug.

Now he's got me. He's picking me up and yep, taking me back in the room with the box. Oh God. Here we go. Oh I'm afraid. I'll just tremble now. Concentrate on the trembling and you won't have to think about the hurting place. What? What's the big person saying? Don't be scared? Oh right. Easy for you to say. How'd you like to be poked into a box and taken against your will to the hurting place where it smells even worse than I do? Might as well just give up and be poked in this box. There I go. Clang goes the door. Wish I could figure that out. How do they make it a door and then it just turns into a wall?

Woah! Oh I hate this part. I'm going up and up and flying in the box. Should I stand up? Oh can't. I can see my big person's legs walking beside me. We're going into the front room and turning toward the door. Maybe if I point toward the cooking room, I can fly that way. Oh now I'm just flying backwards. Outside now and yep, heading for the big going machine. Good dog, he says as he slams the door after I land on the seat. Like I could do anything about this situation other than crouch here and take it.

I can see my big person getting in and then that sound starts that makes the going machine shake and gives me that awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. To take my mind off that bad feeling, I look out the window. Oh man! Trees are running by out there, really really fast. And signs and houses and . . . It's just too much. Glump Glump Glump My big person looks over at me with a mean expression and says that word he says only when the foodgiver isn't around. Well at least I smell better now.

After awhile, my big person makes the going machine be quiet and still. I feel much better now and am kind of enjoying myself. Can't remember why I was so upset before. My big person gets out and comes around and opens my door. Then I start flying again, but it's not too bad. I look around, suddenly remembering the hurting place.

But this doesn't look like the hurting place. It's just another house with a yard and a fence and yes. I can definitely smell dog. And could it be? Very interested indeed, I sit up in my box and sniff the air. Boy, I'm flying in the right direction now. That smell is getting stronger and stronger. Where is she? All fears forgotten, for I am now Macho Dog, I whine my sexiest whine, only to land abruptly and without warning next to the fence.

My big person is talking to another big person and I'm trying to follow their words, but that smell is driving me insane. The fence opens and with a single mighty bound my box and I are inside. I just can't contain myself any longer. "Aooouuuuuuuuu" I sing in my best wolf impression, which in people language, means something like- Hey baby. Your big daddy has come. Look and learn sweetheart! Come to Papa.

And then there she is. The most beautiful dog I have ever smelled and she looks so fine. Are they going to let me out of this damn box or what? That would be about right. But wait. The wall of my box is opening and I'm free. Hurray! Stiff legged, I emerge from my royal carriage with eyes only for her, my sexy queen, the people forgotten with all their confusing doings. For once, even though I still don't understand, I am not about to wonder why.