JULIE STRIKES AGAIN
HUMOREditor's note: I removed all reference to cats, as I'm prejudice that way. Dogs RULE. Cats puke fur. HA!
MEMO TO: ALL DOGS
Dear Dogs,
When I say to move, it means go someplace else, not switch positions with each other so there are still two of you in the way.
The dishes with the paw print are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.
The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help, because I fall faster than you can run.
I cannot buy anything bigger than a king-size bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue to sleep on the couch to ensure your comfort. Look at videos of dogs and cats sleeping, they can actually curl up in a ball. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible, I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space used is nothing but sarcasm.
My compact discs are not miniature Frisbees.
For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, try to turn the knob, or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered. In addition, I have been using bathrooms for years, canine attendance is not mandatory.
The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dogs' butt. I cannot stress this enough. It would be such a simple change for you.
To pacify you I have posted the following message on our front door...
Rules for Non-Dog Owners Who visit and Like to Complain about Our Dogs:
They live here. You don't.
If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture.
I like my dog a lot better than I like most people.
To you, it's an animal. To me, he/she is an adopted son/daughter who is short, hairy, walks on all fours and doesn't speak clearly.
Dogs are better than kids. They eat less, don't ask for money all the time, are easier to train, usually come when called, never drive your car, don't hang out with drug-using friends, don't smoke or drink, don't worry about buying the latest fashions, don't wear your clothes, don't need a gazillion dollars for college, and if they get pregnant, you can sell the results.
Heheheh. And.... I shouted out the front door this morning that "dogs rule and cats puke fur".
Heheheheh. That got a big round of applause from the chickens and a slightly astonished look from the visiting dog, who then promptly rolled over for a belly rub and vanilla wafers, her current favorite snack.
It's so good being owned by a dog...
Lucky thinks chasing cats is great fun. The cats? Eh, not so much. Much to their shame, they have been banished to the barn, where their food and water was anyway, and Lucky cant get in. Their confinment to the DMZ is humiliating, and so they sneak out of the barn, carefully and quietly, one by one, to prowl the other buildings and sniff and watch for DOG!!!!!!
There are serious cat rumblings here following this development. Banished! And after ALL the mice they caught, snakes they chased away, and cat hair and scratches they left all over my truck. Rumblings include comments like "ungrateful humans" and "I bet the chickens called in the dog" and "how can we KILL the evil stinky dog".
I see cats furtively slinking along the tree line, taking an alternate and circuitous route to various holes in the barn where they, but not the dog, can reach sanctuary and their fellow oppressed cats.
My roomie and I have surmised that there is an underground cat insurgency meeting nightly in the barn. We know they are insurgents by their little straggly beards, the little "do rags" on their heads, the little stacked heel boots they wear, the little cigs hanging from the side of their mouths. Tough cats. Oh yeah, and the little tiny cups of turkish coffee that seem to accompany their secret meetings.
Apparantly, no solution has come forth in these regular meetings, and they disperse again, one by one, through the tree line. Lucky sleeps unaware, but if she sees one slinking... WHOOOSH... she is off like a rocket to save Downer Creek from the ever present evil of cat overpopulation.
The mice bring Lucky crumbs of gratitude, which she accepts joyfully, as only dogs can do.
And the chickens watch through the little holes in the chicken wire, thankfully protected from the chaos. They are the prolatariat of the farm, constantly producing, giving their freedom and their young in exchange for fresh water and the best laying mash to be found in Co-op land.
They think it is a fair trade, and so do I :)
Hee hee hee. Life on Downer Creek. I really should get out more...
Shore wish I had me MORE chickens in the freezer. The ones I had are already gone. But I've got about a ton, give or take a few hundred pounds, of taters still in the ground that have to be dug.
Looks like no one will starve here this winter!
I love your story longhorn. You've said in the past that you are published but I don't know if it is short stories, history, biography, textbook, novel... ??? I really like your writing; you tell a story soooo well that the everyday things seem fun. I truly enjoy hearing about life at your place. I'm always ready to hear more!
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