Post by MeI have a dog. She is an Australian Shepherd, and her name is Blue.
Because of her pretty, albeit slightly bulgy, icy-blue eyes. She is
one of my best friends, and, for the most part, we co-exist very well
together.
But the dog digs. Holes. BIGASS Holes. My daughter and I are both 5'
4".
<aside> This place is thick with Tall Folk. </aside>
Post by MeWhen the daughter stands in the hole, she barely comes up to my
shoulder. I know, because I made her stand in the hole.
Did she get the copy of President Lincoln's Emancipation Speech wot I
sent her?
Plant more stuff. Big stuff. Blue sees ya dig holes and plant stuff and
is tryin' to help out.
<grumble> There's always a catch. </grumble>
Post by Me* No, I'm not going to shoot the dog or get rid of the dog.
<shocked!> 'Course not! She's free labo(u)r!
<staring>
What's family got to do with yer "can't shoot or get rid off" clause?
Post by MeI cannot even whomp her over the head with a newspaper, as the
holes are dug while I'm at work, and, although she is very bright (#7 on
the top ten intelligent dog list), I don't think she would get cause and
effect, as in "Mama's whomping the hell outta me with a newspaper
because I dug that hole".
See, if ya hadn't gotten rid of the moles, ya coulda hired them to pop
out of the ground and whomp Blue on the head with petite newspapers.
Post by Me* I must go to work every day, leaving her alone.
Quit.
Post by Me* No she is not bored. She had two fenced acres to run around in.
Woodlands. Dead squirrels. Bunnies. Her husband, Toby, the Border Collie.
Well, then it prolly ain't separation anxiety behavio(u)r, but it sure
sounds like a type of Doggie Boredom ( <-- professional term).
<checking (Official) Psychotherapy Appointment Book>
Lessee... I have Thursdays at ten ayem open. Shall I pencil in Blue to
pop in then and search for her Inner Puppy ( <-- professional term)?
See, Blue just needs a job. Not that there's anything wrong with Dead
Squirrels, but they do not readily lend themselves to bein' herded. Nor
do Bunnies. I suggest that ya build a petite corral, invite lots of
little Miz Bobblehead's friends over, make sure they consume a lot of
sugar, and then set them free to run about the estate. Blue and Toby
will know what to do. But they will still need to attend their weekly
therapy sessions... mebbe even twice a week, 'cause them parrot toys get
expensive.
Was Toby the lost puppy wot suckered you in---I mean, who captured yer
heart a while back? Anyway, he oughta come in for analysis, too--if he
ain't openly actin' out, then he's prolly secretly compensatin' for his
Frustrated Desire for Control with some other kinda destructive
behavio(u)r.
Post by Me* When I fill one hole, she watches, and as soon as I exit my estate,
she digs another.
Mebbe she's just shy yer. Sir Harvey's more upfront about this type of
game. Take, fer instance, what he used to do when I was chattin' on the
phone and he had decided that I needed to ring off and give him my full
attention. He'd stand behind his toy box, throw a toy [THUD!] to catch
my eye (gawd, no, not literally), and, while never breaking eye contact,
he'd methodically reach in, grab a toy with his beak, swing it out and
over the edge of his toy box, hold it aloft a second, and then drop it.
[THUD! THUD! THUD!] Over and over, until he ran out of toys. Harvey
would watch me as I picked up the toys and put them back in the toy box,
and, then, he'd laugh. Now when he thinks I should ring off, he just
starts sayin', "OK, alrighty, then, thanks, yeah, you too, 'bye!" Then
he barks. So, don't fret--soon Blue will prolly be comfortable enough to
dig holes right in front of you. And laugh when ya fill them in.
Post by Me* Somebody's gonna break a leg, stepping in the holes. They will sue.
Oh, I don't think so... I mean, ya already got a digger, sturdy
gardening tools, and lots o' quicklime. And, many acres. BTW, I'm havin'
a SPECIAL SALE on elderberry wine at The Emporium.
Post by MeI'm very serious here. Think outside of the box.
<confused>
What box? The toy box?
<alarmed>
I didn't know there was gonna be a test! This doesn't count towards the
final, does it? 'Cause it ain't fair if it does. 'K, lessee...
Ummm... you raise lovely African violets, you plan major Rock and
Topsoil Heists, you tell stories usin' a deadpan manner that causes
peeps to roll about in fits of laughter (at least I think that's what
the fits are about), you can somehow carry that talent into yer writing,
yer licensed to carry a spatchcock, you can grow lasagna in a garden
(sumpthin' like that, I was too busy rollin' about in laughter to be
sure), you and Miz Doyle can sing CW songs (inspirin' airport transport
drivers to get to yer destination a hell of a lot faster than usual),
with just a few words (spoken with the sweetest Southern Charm) you can
drive a nice, quiet store clerk to apoplexy (can't remember wot ya said,
I was too busy rollin' about in laughter), and... and, you can play
"Fill up the holes in the back 40" with Blue!
What do I win?
--
Sylvia <---- Supreme Ruler of MW & A Respectable Person of Bidness
Visit the MW Alphabet & Hat Emporium, Inc.
Conveniently located in downtown MW, near the Bridge of <Sigh>s