Picking Pieces Off The Fence

I require (and I think deserve) a lot of attention. And when I say a lot of attention, what I really mean is that I deserve all the attention in the world. And when I don’t get all the attention in the world I have no choice but to go out of my way to achieve what is rightfully mine. A perfect example of this premise occurred last weekend.

Ma, Pa, and I were spending the weekend out east (Sister was in a bad mood and decided to stay home—I thought I was really going to miss her, but then I realized that I would not have to share the backseat of the car with her on the drive out so I got over it) and Saturday afternoon’s project, it was decided, would included Ma and Pa picking and trashing mushrooms that had sprouted up in the grass over the course of the previous week. I joined them outside in the backyard during this project.

Now, I’ve never ever been even remotely interested in mushrooms, so for the life of me I couldn’t fathom why Ma and Pa were so dedicated to the completion of this task. Perhaps, I thought, they were concerned that I might try to eat one one day. Ha! Highly unlikely. Why would I bother eating a mushroom from the backyard when there are far more stinky things to eat outside (i.e. half eaten fish dropped by seagulls) and far more tasty things to eat inside (i.e. cheese, apples, tomatoes, and steak)? Humans--I just don’t get them.

Anyway, regardless of my thoughts on the matter, there were two things I knew for certain that afternoon:

1. If Ma and Pa were searching for mushrooms, then they were not paying me the attention I deserved.
2. If Ma and Pa were not paying me the attention I deserved, then I would be forced to draw their attention the only way I knew how…by causing trouble.

I quickly scanned the backyard. At first I felt a bit discouraged; there didn’t seem to be many options. The neighbor dogs were not out so I couldn't rile them up, there really wasn’t much of a garden so I couldn’t dig in the mud, Ma had clipped all the overgrown weeds growing along the fences so I couldn’t graze on them, and the neighbor kids hadn’t thrown any of their toys over the fence so I couldn’t gnaw on them. But then, just when I was about to give up and simply bark at imaginary people passing by the house, a six inch long broken piece of picket fence caught my eye.

But I couldn’t simply run over to the fence. No sir. You see, as much as I craved attention, I wanted it on my terms and I certainly didn’t want to draw attention to myself before I retrieved my prize. So I strolled over to the broken piece of fence as nonchalantly as possible (if I were able to whistle—impossible due to my drooly jowls—I would have done so while I sauntered over to my prize). After an excruciatingly long period of time, I reached the fence, scooped up the broken piece, and, no longer trying to remain under the radar, galloped off across the yard.

My enthusiastic retreat with my prize did exactly what I expected it would: it drew Ma and Pa’s attention. First Ma tried to retrieve my prize from me which resulted in a rousing game of keep away. Then Pa stepped in. Pa doesn't like playing keep away so I reluctantly had to give up my prize when he told me to “drop it.” I was really kind of bummed about losing my piece of fence, but at least I drew everyone's attention.

Two Letters

Dear Ralphie's Mom,

Ralphie Stew

I just wanted to take a minute to thank you for the yummy stew you sent me.  I got a spoonful of it yesterday when Sister came home from class and a couple of scoops mixed in with both my breakfast and dinner today.  And do you know what?  Ralphie's right.  The orange stuff is particularly tasty.  Oh!  And I mustn't forget the chicken!  How did you know that chicken (along with quail, duck, and turkey) is my favorite type of poultry?

My First Taste

Which leads me to the question:  Are you free to cater all my meals?  You see, after sampling your stew, I came to the realization that the catering crew that I currently employ (mainly Ma, Pa, and Sister) are severely lacking in their collective cooking skills.  Don't get me wrong, the kibble they serve me is tasty and I certainly wouldn't turn my snout up at it, but it isn't chicken.  And I realize and appreciate that Ma, Pa, and Sister do try to spice up my meals with pureed pumpkin and something they call "gravy" but, once again, what they're serving me isn't chicken.

So anyway, the offer stands.  I'll be waiting for your response by my dinner bowl.

Love always,
Rigby

Ralphie Tested & Ralphie Approved

Dear Ralphie,

My compliments on your excellent choice of sponsorship.  Your "Ralphie Tested...Ralphie Approved Stew" was delicious!

Your leaning buddy,
Rigby.

Interlopers Run Amok

It's hard for me to admit this out loud, but I feel that I must.  I've recently failed miserably at a job that I hold very near and dear to my heart.  The job:  Head of Security.  My feelings on the topic:  I'm not happy about it.

Interloper Number 1:  
The laps in security started a couple of weeks ago when I noticed that there was an influx of squirrels passing though my yard on their way to the bird feeder and peach tree in the neighbor's yard.  As I've explained in the past, the squirrels and I have a bit of an understanding.  I'm willing to tolerate their trespassing (I hurry them along by chasing after them) provided that they drop their half eaten peaches on my side of the fence (consider it a toll of sorts).  Later, after scrounging through the bushes in search of these peaches, I trade them for a cookie from Pa, Ma, or Sister.  Anyway, long story short, the squirrel paw traffic has increased, but the number of dropped peaches hasn't.

Interloper Number 2:

Henry, When He Was Small

About a week ago, I came to the realization that Henry, the stupid little bunny who usually lives in the yard next door (I bark at him daily), had decided to start nibbling the grass in my yard.  But regardless of how alarming and disturbing the concept of Henry suddenly taking up residence in my back yard is, it is nothing compared to one additional fact.  Henry is no longer a "stupid little bunny."  He is now a "stupid massively large bunny."  I kid you not, he is huge!  He's even starting to rival in size most of the small dogs I know.  Mercifully, as of right now, he's obviously still frightened of me (he still runs away when he sees me), but I fear that his brazen trespassing and obvious steroid use (how else can one account for his sudden and massive increase in size) could signify that the tables might change if something isn't done soon to rectify the situation.

Interloper Number 3:
Last weekend, Pa went into the garage to retrieve his car washing bucket and was surprised to find that a baby lizard had taken up residence in the bottom of the bright orange bin.  He was shocked because he had no idea how the lizard got into the bucket.  I was shocked because of how far onto my property the lizard had managed to travel despite the hours I've put into chasing his like away.

Interloper Number 4:  
And finally, last week, I received a final blow to my pride.  I discovered that there was a raccoon living in my backyard tree.  I was flabbergasted.  How could a raccoon (or heaven forbid, a family of raccoons) take up residence in my tree?  Now, I've never actually seen the raccoon; I've only smelled him.  Even so, when I get a whiff of him, I don't hesitate to put my front paws up on the tree as high as I can reach and bark hysterically into the darkness.  In fact, the very first night I smelled him, I started barking so ferociously up the tree that the neighbors in back came out to see what was going on.  Pa tried for a good long time to convince me to come in (as did Sister), but I wouldn't have it.  I was too intent on barking at that raccoon.  Eventually, Sister got my leash and Pa walked me back inside the house, but I didn't forget.  Every night since, when I've gone out for my last business trip, I've made a mad dash for that tree (unless Pa thinks ahead and takes me out on my leash).

So there you have it, my great failure.  But I'm not admitting defeat.  Vigilance.  That's what's in order right now.  Vigilance and resourcefulness.  I'm hopeful that, with a combination of stepped up perimeter patrols and barking fits, I'll be able to shore up my borders within the next couple of days, push all the interlopers out, and regain my integrity as Head of Security.

Wish me luck!