Joining Forces with Pa

In my family, everyone has a job.  I am cute and lovable and provide endless hours of entertainment to my family and all those who meet me.  Ma is in charge of making sure that my kibble never gets boring (she adds interesting flavors to it including, most recently, pumpkin puree which is really, really tasty).  Sister allows me to sleep on her bed.  And Pa, well, let's just say Pa is in charge of entertainment.

A Man and His Hound

Pa and I get into all sorts of trouble when we are together.  We go on long walks in the morning, we rough-house at night, and, when Pa gets home from work early, we enjoy a quick snack and a long nap.  But our favorite father-son activity, by far, is annoying Sister (and we're quite good at it, if I do say so myself).  We're so good at it, in fact, that Pa is still snickering, days later, over the last trick we played on her.

Here's what happened:

Checking Out My Crate

It was Sunday afternoon and Pa and Sister were in the living room watching television.  Unable to suppress my fun-loving personality and sense of humor any longer, I got up from my pillow and scurried into the kitchen looking for trouble or food, whichever I came upon first.  No food or trouble was to be found in the kitchen, so I moseyed over to the landing by the door and stared down the adjacent stairway to the basement.  Now, I'm not allowed in the basement (it is a below-ground "Land of No"), but I can climb up and down the stairs and there, perched on the third step from the top, was a pair of Pa's work boots.

Jackpot!

I scurried down the steps, grabbed one of the boots by its tongue, and climbed back up the stairs (which is not an easy task when the boot is so big and heavy that it bounces off each and every step as you climb).  Tail wagging a mile a minute, I scurried into the living room and showed off my treasure to Pa and Sister.

Pa and Me at My Estate

As with most ill-gotten gains, I knew that eventually someone would ask me to give up the boot that I had so rightfully found.  The question was, however, how easily would I give it up?  When Ma or Sister requests that I give them something I've got, they have a 10% chance of me spitting it out without a fight (this increases to 50% if they promise me a cookie but don't have said cookie on them and 95% if they show me the cookie).  Pa, on the other paw, has a much better track record with me.  For him, I tend to give up my treasures on the first request and without the offer of a cookie about 90% of the time.

On this particular day, it was Pa who got to me first.  From his chair he leaned forward, looked me in the eye, and said, in a calm voice, "Rigby, drop."

"Oww!" Sister squealed.

I had dropped the boot on Sister's foot.

Pa started laughing hysterically and I, in turn, started wagging my tail around in circles.  While Sister muttered something about Pa and I being really mean, Pa jumped up and, between guffaws, exclaimed:  "Okay, I'll pay for that.  Let's go get a cookie!"

Who am I to argue?

Obediently, I followed Pa into the kitchen to collect my cookie.  Meanwhile, Sister, always the drama queen, limped into the kitchen with the boot in her hand and tossed it, and its mate, down into the basement's "Land of No." 

What a spoilsport!