Four Vignettes

Bruno:

Ill Gotten Gains

There's a new dog on the block out east--a boxer puppy named Bruno. Bruno and I had a meet and greet in my backyard a couple of weeks ago and while he was very playful (he kept jumping over me and gnawing on my ears), I was way more interested in the squeaky ball his human had brought over for us to play with.  In fact, I was so interested in the ball that I basically ignored Bruno.  When it was time for Bruno to go home, no one was able to wrestle the toy away from me.  So, I kept it.  Well, I kept it for the night.  The following morning, before we left for home, Pa tossed the squeaky ball over the fence and into Bruno's backyard.  Sigh.  Anyway, Bruno's squeaky ball can visit any time it wants.

In the Wash:
My evenings are usually spent snoozing on my end of the couch which is protected from fur and slobber by an old bed sheet.  Two days ago, I was shocked to discover that the protective sheet was gone and a number of pillows were piled high on the cushion preventing me from claiming my spot.  Undeterred, I headed toward the other end of the couch, but found that Ma had beaten me to it.  Becoming concerned, I started to pace in front of the couch, looking for a way up.  Ma noticed my anxiety and told me that I wasn't allowed on the couch that evening and that I'd have to snooze on the floor.  I started to whine.  Ma explained to me that my sheet was in the dryer and that I couldn't lay on the couch until it was dry.  I started to bark.  Ma jumped up, went downstairs, and brought back a new old bed sheet for me to use.  I waited just long enough for Ma to cover most of the couch before pushing by her, jumping onto the cushion, and flopping down with a sigh.

Ears of Steel:
One evening, when Sister came home from work, she decided to make a snack of peanut butter and jelly crackers (PB&J on saltines).  Alone in the kitchen (I was in the living room), and not in the mood for sharing, Sister decided to work as quietly as possible with the hope that I wouldn't scurry in looking for samples.  She retrieved the crackers and jelly with no issue, but then she knew those would be easy to obtain.  The issue was the peanut butter (my favorite).  As quietly as possible, Sister opened the pantry door, picked up the peanut butter jar, slid it onto the counter top, and unscrewed the top.  Proud of her accomplishment of doing the aforementioned tasks silently, Sister turned around to get a knife to spread the peanut butter on her crackers with, but stopped suddenly in her tracks.  There I was, sitting at her feet, looking up at the peanut butter jar, and drooling.

A Little Too Quick
At lunch time, when Sister says it is time to go outside and check the perimeters, I immediately jump up and scurry to the door.  Usually, just as I reach the top step, Sister opens the storm door which allows me to exit the house without actually having to slow down my pace.  Well, I don't know if it was her, me, or a combination of both of us, but earlier this week the timing of this little tradition was horribly off and I ended up running head first into the storm door long before Sister managed to open it.