Silly Me

Lookin' silly.

I wear many hats. Sure, my main job is to be noble and show off my devilishly good looks to the world, but I am also an author (I expect someday to win the Nobel Prize in Literature), a companion to my family, a watch dog, a vacuum cleaner for dropped foodstuff, and animal control (got to keep those squirrels and bunnies from taking over my backyard) to name only a few. This week, I’ve taken on a new role: court jester.

You see, I’ve come to the conclusion that my family has been too serious lately and that it is my responsibility as family dog to try to cheer them up. Therefore, I’ve decided to hang up my noble and refined persona and allow my wild and crazy side to shine through. Here are my most recent attempts at making my family laugh.

My family and I spent last weekend out east. On Saturday, I happened to walk into the kitchen (okay, I didn’t just happen to walk into the kitchen…I was trolling for bits of leftover bacon from breakfast) and came upon Ma, Pa, and Sister talking about some truly boring and terribly uninteresting topic. I stared up at them, following the conversation with my eyes, all the while flexing my jaws on the tennis ball I had picked up in the living room (I think of it as endurance training—it takes a lot of effort to chew all the bones I chew). When I got tired of listening (and believe me, it didn't take that long), I scurried past and stepped up to my water bowl. With a splash and a thunk, I spit my bally-ball into my water dish and started drinking around it. By the time I had quenched my thirst and simultaneously filled my jowls with lots of water which I planned on dribbling all over the kitchen floor (stone floors are especially slippery when wet and one of my favorite pastimes is watching my family go skidding across the room), my family was laughing hysterically. I wagged my tail with approval and reclaimed my ball from Ma once she had plucked it from the water.

A couple of days later, I decided to allow my crazy side to appear again.  You see, recently I've had this thing with my collar where I insist on holding the tail end in my mouth despite the fact that it is really hard to do and I have to bend and crane my neck in odd angles to grab hold of it.  Well, this time, rather than grab my collar, I made sure to accidentally get my bottom canine tooth stuck in one of the beautiful blond curls located on my chest (I tend to get a bit knotty there because my drool fuses my fur together).  At first Sister thought I was having a fit, but as soon as she realized what was happening she laughed and called me over to help.  Once she detached my tooth from my chest, I wagged my tail as she rubbed my ears.

Yeah, I've looked foolish this week, but you know what, if it makes my family laugh, I guess it's worth it.