Sunday was a traumatic day for me. Ma, Pa, and Sister decided to go for a really long ride that lasted most of the day. That wasn't the traumatic part (though I was a bit miffed that they didn't take me...they know how much I enjoy car rides). To tell you the truth, I kind of look forward to my humans taking these long trips because it means that I have total control of the house while they're gone. I can sleep on all the comfy surfaces without fear of being caught, I can get a drink of water and drag my drool filled jowls all over the furniture without anyone drying me off with a paper towel, and I can chew up or shred almost anything I can get my teeth on and my actions would be totally justifiable because I was "so distraught at being left alone all day long." An added bonus is that before they leave the house, I'm given a giant Milkbone cookie for not trying to push my way out the door (I've trained my humans so well). Well, it was this Milkbone cookie that made Sunday so traumatic for me.
As is the norm, as soon as I heard the cookie box open, I ran to my "bed" (AKA pillow) in Ma and Pa's room and waited for Ma to deliver the goods. Immediately, I started to break the cookie up into more manageable pieces and contently ate the shards I had spread all over the rug. It was only after I had finished these crumbs that I noticed that the unthinkable had happened: a piece of cookie had rolled underneath the dresser.
I dropped to the floor and jammed my snout under the furniture and stretched my tongue out as far as it would go. Sadly, I came up empty...the cookie was just out of my reach. My mind started racing. What was I supposed to do? The dresser was much too heavy for me to move with the strength of my snout and I knew that I would be in a whole heap of trouble if I chewed or scratched the wood with my teeth or nails (some actions are simply never justifiable). In time, I came to the sad realization that there was nothing I could possibly do. Overcome with despair, I collapsed to the floor and fell into a fitful sleep; the thought of that cookie, forever just out of my reach, constantly disturbing my slumber.
After what seemed like years, I was awakened by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and the side gate opening and closing. I quickly jumped up and rushed to the side door hoping that if it wasn't my family then perhaps it would be a kindly burglar who would help me with my plight. It was the family. I tried to greet them with my usual enthusiasm, but I'm afraid my heart really wasn't in it...I was too consumed with the thought of my delicious, crunchy, and now dust flavored cookie lying abandoned under the dresser. The only comfort I found was in the thought that at least my family was here to help me.
However, I suddenly found myself with an even bigger problem. Although I knew that a piece of cookie was under the dresser, I had no real way of informing my people of its whereabouts. Every time someone walked into the room, I followed them with great enthusiasm and shot mournful glances at the dresser, trying to draw their attention, but alas, no one seemed to notice or comprehend.
Finally, hours later, when Ma was getting ready for bed, I decided on a new tactic. I lay facing where my cookie sat and let out a long sad whimper. This got Ma's attention. "What is it boy?" she asked and I put my head down on the floor and cried again. "What's up?" she asked as she got down on the floor next to me. "Almost there!" I thought as I let out one more sad mournful cry while I weakly stared at my cookie. It was then that she finally got the hint and felt around under the dresser with her hand. "Oh poor puppy," she said as she withdrew her hand holding the cookie. I ate it gratefully.
It was the best tasting cookie ever.
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