Dog Is My Co-Pilot
by Mizhowlinmad (HBF), 2010
Disclaimer: TAT belongs to SJC and Universal. I'm not doing this for profit, just borrowing them for a short walk and a couple of Milk Bones.
Humans usually stink. The one sitting across from my human at the moment doesn't.
Don't get me wrong; he has all those usual humany-type smells like peoplesweat and that weird white stuff they put under their arms, but he smells like something else, too. I can't figure out what it is. It's not entirely a bad thing.
I'm pretty spazzed right now. There's tons of stuff to smell in this place, and most of it freaks me out. Stuff I've never smelled before. Stuff that just smells wrong.
And somewhere, I can smell another dog. I can't see it, but I can smell it. It doesn't smell like the kind of place a dog should be. In fact, it smells vaguely like the back room at the V-E-T.
No dog ever comes back from there. If they do, they're always missing certain parts and they're never the same. I know; I was there. As if it isn't bad enough being a Maltese.
I should be at Miss Priscilla's Canine Academy right now. But I'm not, and I'm pretty pissed. Why exactly I'm not there is unclear to me. I can sort of remember what my humans said at the house this morning, but it's all a blur. And it was in peopletalk anyway, which I've never understood very well.
"Oh, Alan, you should really take little Freudie-poo…" At the sound of my name, I'd pricked up my ears, "to work today. They have a day for it and everything."
Now, my human (Alan) always gives me lots of scritches and treats, but I've always secretly suspected he likes his female person more than me. So, instead of getting me ready for a day of pampering and loving attention like I normally get, he shoved me into the little box with holes in it (which normally means a trip to the V-E-T and is never fun) and into the back of his car.
And now, here I am. Pissed, and having to piss, since my human hasn't bothered to take me outside yet.
Humans are strange. They always talk about something called a "JOB." From what I can tell, a "JOB" means my human has to sit in a chair behind a desk, pretend to pay attention, and listen to other humans talk for long periods of time. No playtime or snack time or pee time at all.
Didn't I say they were weird?
Anyway, back to what I was saying. This human, whose name is "Murdock," is talking to my human and he starts to say something in peoplespeak that interests me enough to raise my head off the cushy pillow.
"But I can see him. He's a good boy, never bites or anything. Right, Billy?" He reaches down and starts giving, oh good Sirius, EAR SCRITCHES!
I love ear scritches. They're way up there with Snausages and peeing on top of some other dog's pee and my chewy squeaky squirrel.
I've decided to like this human, even if he doesn't smell the way most of them do. I open my mouth and say hello. It comes out in this dorky, high-pitched yip! that I really hate. I think I'd get more respect if my voice were deeper.
The human notices me, and he's smiling. If he had a tail, it would be wagging. "Hey, Doc, I didn't know you had a dog! Can I introduce Billy? I know he'll play nice…"
My human interrupts, clearing his throat. Then, he's using his "Bad Dog!" voice. "I'm afraid he's just a casual observer. If we could get back to the subject on hand, Mr. Murdock? You were about to tell me about how your recollection of the war is an influence upon your sexual frustrations."
Humans always use such long words. I never really understand what they're saying unless somebody throws in something about food or treats or squirrels or pee. If I had to guess, I'd say my human was pretty upset with this guy.
But maybe this Murdock is a lot like Igor, the wacked-out Chinese Crested at my doggie play group. Igor doesn't get the "Bad Dog" voice at all. Before I know it, Murdock is next to my pillow, giving me lots of scritches and cooing to me in the "Good Dog" voice Priscilla always uses with me.
"Oooh, she's such a cute little chica…lookit her adorable pink bow…"
I hate not being able to see colors like humans. I also hate being mistaken for a girl dog. But he's a good human who smells nice, and I just can't resist chin and ear scritches, so I'm able to let it go. I give him the belly-up, I-really-like-you treatment and before I can help myself, I'm whimpering.
"Mr. Murdock, please. Control yourself. This wasn't my idea to bring Freud to work; it was my wife's. So please finish, and I'd like to continue your session." My human sighs and sits back down in his chair.
"Can I at least give her…I mean, him…a little somethin'? Pleeease?"
"As long as it's organic. Freud only eats organic food," my human says.
Ohboyohboy….it's FOOD! That's what I smelled before!
"Go on, go get it!" He pulls something out of his leather jacket and throws it across the room. And I'm after it as fast as I can run.
My left leg, however, catches the snaky cord leading up to the lamp on my human's table. It falls down and there's a loud crack! as it breaks into a bunch of tiny pieces. Then I'm free, and I'm flopping and running at the same time towards the little bit of kibble in the far corner. But I can't stop in time, and I run smack into the big stack of books. They come crashing down and tumble into the next stack. There's a statue of a human's head on top of one of the bookcases. Crash! It's broken, just like the lamp.
I find the kibble. It tastes like chicken liver, my favorite. I'm so excited, and my bladder is so full, that I piddle on the carpet. When my human looks at me, it reminds me of the time I ate his stuffed pheasant.
Hey, I didn't know it was stuffed. It just smelled yummy.
"Mr. Murdock…I'll have to ask you to leave now."
He's talking to the other human, the one with the kibble and who smells pretty doggy to me. The guy is looking the way Igor does whenever he accidentally pees on the designer pillows at Miss Priscilla's. I think it's called "chagrin" in peoplespeak.
"Sorry, Doc. I, um, hope those weren't too expensive." He shrugs. I can't do that, but it looks pretty cool. "Don't look at Billy, he was sittin' like a good boy the whole time."
My human presses a little button on his desk, which buzzes. A couple of much bigger, much worse-smelling humans come into the room, and they put some kind of weird-looking white thing on Murdock, who's still smiling when they take him away.
Just like old Igor, who never seems to get bothered by the "Bad Dog" voice or the newspaper swats or the No-Nos. He always just eats what he wants and pees where he wants and barks so loud during Quiet Time. I wish I could be more like that. Not so worried about what might happen, just enjoying things as they come.
I'm not sure why, but my human isn't mad at me. He just picks up the black banana-shaped thing on his desk (the PHONE, in peoplespeak) and pushes some of the buttons.
"Honey, we need to talk. I…" He sighs. "I don't think it's a good idea to bring Freud to work anymore. And also…that Tiffany lamp your mother gave us…that was insured, wasn't it?"
I heard my name again. I hope that means I get more scritches and/or more kibble.
And I can't wait to tell Igor and Hyacinth and Mr. Tinkles and all my other friends at Miss Priscilla's tomorrow about all this. They'll never believe me.