Today’s post is a guest post by Bandit Calhoun.
I was minding my own puppy business when it happened. It wasn’t my fault, I’d been talking with The Bean, strategizing actually, as to how we could procure some of those delectable ribs on the barbee. Yes, I was. Dad and Mom were sitting on the swing on the veranda, sipping wine as our dinner was grilling to perfection. Man, Dad is good at grilling and Mom’s good at cookies so my life is usually one great feast after another. I mean really, chase Miss Kitty and the chickens, take a nap, and eat some ribs. It just doesn’t get any better than that.
The only fly in my ointment is The Bean. Darn it, if they don’t love her as much as they love me. And darn it if she doesn’t get more ribs than I do every time. I just don’t get it, but then again, I have inside privileges and The Bean has accidents. Just sayin’.
Dad was checking my ribs, Mom was sipping Chardonnay, and The Bean was snoozing when I approached her. My plan was for Queenie, The Bean, to distract the parents while I grabbed some ribs for the both of us. The main problem with my plan was that I am too short to actually reach the ribs. That particular problem was inadvertently solved by The Bean at my expense.
The Bean is old and The Bean is deaf. I stood up on my back legs and tried to whisper my plan in her ear. Well, she was dozing as I said. She jumped so high you would have thought a herd of feral kittens had passed before her very eyes. She jumped and I was airborne. Into the pool. It was cold. I hadn’t been in the pool for six and one half years and it wasn’t my idea then, either. I was a tiny pup but I still remember falling into that big, cold, smelly pool. It was an experience I had no need to revisit. But, thanks to The Bean, revisit it I did.
I hardly knew what hit me as I gasped for air and started to swim for the steps. Dad was quick and yelled for me to come to him. I was scared but I turned around and paddled as fast as my Yorkie legs could paddle to reach him. Mom was screaming and ready to jump in. Good thing Dad kept his head level as usual. I really didn’t need Mom jumping in to save me as I might have had to hear how she suffered by jumping into the freezing water to save me the rest of my life. I was born knowing how to swim, you know. It’s something we canines are born knowing.
The level headedness award went to The Bean, though. In all the confusion created by my flight into the pool, the plate of ribs ended up on the patio. The Bean wasted no time cleaning up the mess. No time, I tell you. She didn’t so much as glance our way as Dad scooped me up and carried me into the house. Yes, into the house and right past the ribs on the patio. How rude!
Mom tried to put me in a towel and dry me off, but I wasn’t having any of that. I wanted my ribs. I earned them, darn it! I ran around like a rabid squirrel, drying myself off on the carpet and every piece of furniture I could find. I tried to communicate with them. Forget the Mickey Mouse towel already! Leave me some shred of dignity, I want my ribs!
I listened, they talked. We’d better leave him in. He’s cold and wet and could get sick if we let him out. Dad went back out with Queenie while I was stuck inside with Mom. She set the table and I found more furniture to leave my mark on. I actually kind of liked being wet and running around like a rabid squirrel but don’t tell anyone.
Fortunately for all involved, there were still some ribs left on the barbee. Dad brought them in and they sat down to eat. Dad made me a bowl of special food but I wouldn’t eat it. Are you kidding me? Did my near death experience not make anyone sympathetic to my plight? The parents conversed with themselves and Mom said how cute I was, all wet and all. Really? Dad looked down at me and smiled. It was then that we really communicated. The next thing you know, I had a delectable rib in my mouth. Off I took before they changed their minds and stuck me with my usual kibble.
And as all my stories go, this one had a happy ending. The dip in the pool was long forgotten, The Bean feasting on illicit ribs without me was but a shadow of a memory, and all was right in my puppy world. Mom picked me up, squeezed me a little, and kissed me on the head. Yes, she did and still does it at least once a day. Welcome to my world. Well, you can’t have everything but you can have it all.