I will happily attack any dog bigger than myself. I gamely alert my family to dangers like the thumping washing machine, creepy reflections in windows, and buzzing sprinklers. I am an adept hunter of toads, whom I bravely attempt to squash with my paws. I am terrified of bugs.
My life the past few days has been a torment of terror. Flies keep getting in the house, and I am ashamed to admit to pathological, fear-driven obsessive behaviors. For some reason, when a fly buzzes by, my heart pounds and I compulsively check my, ahem, nether regions. I have no explanation, it just happens. When not peeking behind me, I am scooting underneath furniture. I feel the safest under beds upstairs. Flies do not usually frequent the darkness underneath furniture. Ahhh, but there are certain things that DO frequent dark areas under furniture...
Remember, I live in south Texas, in the tropics. Where yellow roses give birth to gargantuan things like cockroaches. Now, if you've never encountered a cockroach, cross yourself three times and stay where you are! These little demoniac critters are so fast it makes your skin crawl. They like to come out at night. There are cockroaches who FLY!! And they can live for a week without their head. Need I say more?
It was a quiet, normal summer night. Mr. Will was reading, and I was snoozing on the pile of pillows by his bed. He was cheating, and reading a scary book long past lights out. His mother was snoring obliviously in her room. Suddenly, we heard a "whirring" noise. Now, if "whirr" doesn't give you chills, then you are not in cockroach country. It was like a science-fiction/horror movie: the black, blurry smudge zooming from dark corner to dark corner, eluding identification, until landing on the wall only inches from Mr. Will's head. Mr. Will, bless him, bravely spent .0125 seconds identifying the gruesome thing, then abandoned me and took off at a dead run to his mother!!!
I will spare you further details, if only to not embarrass Mr. Will. Although I bravely spent the night guarding Will from the creature, which of course refused to show itself when thrown a challenge by Ms. Alpha Pants, I did not rest well. We were all relieved when the small demon was found dead in the bathroom yesterday morning. However, THIS morning, poor Ms. Erica stepped barefooted on yet another one in the kitchen! Ms. Alpha Pants finished the thrashing creature off for her after falling down the last half of the stairs at 6:30 in the morning (but that's another story). I have been extra affectionate to Alpha Pants today, as I overheard her on the phone with her pest control company. They will be coming on Monday.
Can we make it til then?
Wait, was that a "whirr"?
http://www.roachcom.net/rofacts/
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Leader of the Pack
As previously mentioned, I am on a mission to get my beloved owners out of the house and out having fun. So I am now the personal trainer for my owner. I have been walking her in the morning and in the evening, which has been great for her! However, yesterday we went too far and she panicked. You should have seen her frantically googling articles on how far to walk with a dog (all this at 10 p.m., and if you know my owner, you know how remarkable that is!). While she was doing this, I was laying spread out on the daybed behind her, pretending to be near death with exhaustion, all the while smirking at her back.
It's her fault, really. You see, recently I have allowed myself to become, well, more myself, if that makes any sense. Doesn't everyone do that in a relationship as it strengthens and lengthens? Well, she has rudely began to say the word "terrier" as if it were profanity. At first I chose to accept it as a compliment, but that soon grew old. Then to my utter horror, she began compulsively watching episodes of "The Dog Whisperer" on National Geographic.
Cesar Milan doesn't do much "whispering", if you ask me. He does a lot of Alpha Dog behaviors, like "gently" forcing a dog down at the neck until they show submission. Oh, it works, all right. So there I am, trotting along, taking my owner for her nightly walk. My owner, who henceforth will be referred to as Ms. Alpha Pants, was praising me for all my good behaviors. I was studiously ignoring her.
All I did was head over to introduce myself to two labs. I may have led Ms. Alpha Pants to the wrong conclusion, but at 20 pounds, I feel obliged to make sure I am respected. Well, within a millisecond I was pinned to the sidewalk by the neck. I was not pleased. So I relaxed, tricking Ms. Alpha Pants into thinking I was all submissive. She let me up, and I swear all I did was look back to see if those labs were laughing at me, when BAM! I was back down on the sidewalk. And did I mention this all occurred at the busiest four-way stop in the neighborhood?!! HU MIL I A TING. Needless to say, I don't try to be friendly anymore on walks. Oh no! I humbly follow Alpha Pants' lead and keep to the trail.
So now she is all bragging about needing to show me who the leader of the pack is. Hmpf. Okay, baby, it's on. Just remember that the next time you use the name "terrier" as an epithet. I just want to gently remind all my readers that dogs only allow you to think you are in control.
Problem: Humans doing mundane, human things which divert their attention from the DOG.
Solution: Vomit on the carpet.
And just who is controlling who?
It's her fault, really. You see, recently I have allowed myself to become, well, more myself, if that makes any sense. Doesn't everyone do that in a relationship as it strengthens and lengthens? Well, she has rudely began to say the word "terrier" as if it were profanity. At first I chose to accept it as a compliment, but that soon grew old. Then to my utter horror, she began compulsively watching episodes of "The Dog Whisperer" on National Geographic.
Cesar Milan doesn't do much "whispering", if you ask me. He does a lot of Alpha Dog behaviors, like "gently" forcing a dog down at the neck until they show submission. Oh, it works, all right. So there I am, trotting along, taking my owner for her nightly walk. My owner, who henceforth will be referred to as Ms. Alpha Pants, was praising me for all my good behaviors. I was studiously ignoring her.
All I did was head over to introduce myself to two labs. I may have led Ms. Alpha Pants to the wrong conclusion, but at 20 pounds, I feel obliged to make sure I am respected. Well, within a millisecond I was pinned to the sidewalk by the neck. I was not pleased. So I relaxed, tricking Ms. Alpha Pants into thinking I was all submissive. She let me up, and I swear all I did was look back to see if those labs were laughing at me, when BAM! I was back down on the sidewalk. And did I mention this all occurred at the busiest four-way stop in the neighborhood?!! HU MIL I A TING. Needless to say, I don't try to be friendly anymore on walks. Oh no! I humbly follow Alpha Pants' lead and keep to the trail.
So now she is all bragging about needing to show me who the leader of the pack is. Hmpf. Okay, baby, it's on. Just remember that the next time you use the name "terrier" as an epithet. I just want to gently remind all my readers that dogs only allow you to think you are in control.
Problem: Humans doing mundane, human things which divert their attention from the DOG.
Solution: Vomit on the carpet.
And just who is controlling who?
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Summer!
So I haven't written in a while....my family went on vacation WITHOUT me. But lucky me, I got to stay at our dear friends house, where I was treated like a princess and got to hang out with my friend Tug. I almost forgive them for leaving me.
In the meantime, I have been polishing my skills at beating the sprinkler into submission. It's a cheeky thing, and it responds not at all to my intimidation tactics. The water just keeps coming, and coming, and coming. Just like all the newscasts on the death of Michael Jackson...it was like a sophisticated type of media torture...and it went on and on and on. I found myself as confused as Miss Belle, who must have asked ten times yesterday, "Is that the guy who used to be black?"
But the joys of taming the sprinkler on a 100 degree day! It cannot be underestimated in its refreshing, unadulterated joy. I then had to spend a good ten minutes evading a scrubbing with a towel, but that was all in good fun, too. Whatever I can do to entice those kids away from the t.v. and Playstation. After this I will go for my evening walk, although I do plan on trying to sneak out the back door when it's time for the sprinkler to be moved. Surely the next time I will win.
In the meantime, I have been polishing my skills at beating the sprinkler into submission. It's a cheeky thing, and it responds not at all to my intimidation tactics. The water just keeps coming, and coming, and coming. Just like all the newscasts on the death of Michael Jackson...it was like a sophisticated type of media torture...and it went on and on and on. I found myself as confused as Miss Belle, who must have asked ten times yesterday, "Is that the guy who used to be black?"
But the joys of taming the sprinkler on a 100 degree day! It cannot be underestimated in its refreshing, unadulterated joy. I then had to spend a good ten minutes evading a scrubbing with a towel, but that was all in good fun, too. Whatever I can do to entice those kids away from the t.v. and Playstation. After this I will go for my evening walk, although I do plan on trying to sneak out the back door when it's time for the sprinkler to be moved. Surely the next time I will win.
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