Sailor here.
The enemy is here, also. It is all around us, everywhere, especially in my backyard. The enemy is loud and cheeky and comes in several colors, mostly black and gray. The enemy teases and taunts, scolds and screeches at ME. I love it!
I love to dash across the wet lawn and chase those little buggers up the nearest redwood tree. I love to get my feet wet on the early morning grass and then kick up the gorilla hair so my back feet turn a bit black themselves. I love the way the enemy runs because it is really afraid of me. I love to protect my Mom from these little furry guys.
Mom says that they have lived here on our property for longer than I have, and, like me, they belong here. She says that if I think about it, we have a lot in common. We are both furry. We have bushy tails and she says we can flirt them over our backs to punctuate our sentences. We both bark, each in our own ways, and can bark at each other for minutes on end, me from the ground, the enemy from the safety of the trees. The enemy is small enough to fit into Mom’s pocket; my nose is small enough to fit into Mom’s other pocket. We both have four feet and two eyes and two ears that sometimes prick in the air and sometimes lie close to our heads. We both run fast and like digging in the flower pots. Well, actually, I only started to THINK about digging in the flower pots one time to see what the enemy had buried, and Mom let me know that doggy digging was forbidden, at least in the flower pots.
The enemy and I are very different, though. I run on the grass and dirt; the enemy runs on the grass and dirt and the trees and fence tops. I am not very good at climbing; these little buggers can climb straight up the chimney! The enemy is black. The enemy is also gray and buff. I am sable and white. The enemy eats almonds and avocado pits and cherry plum seeds and can plant walnut trees in the ground. I eat bones and raw food and plant my butt on the butt coolers in the house in the summertime. The enemy can sneak up on me from above and drop empty walnut shells on my head. I don’t remember ever sneaking up on anything. But mostly we are different because never, not once, have I ever been chased by one of these guys.
I love to dash across the wet lawn and chase those little buggers up the nearest redwood tree. I love to get my feet wet on the early morning grass and then kick up the gorilla hair so my back feet turn a bit black themselves. I love the way the enemy runs because it is really afraid of me. I love to protect my Mom from these little furry guys.
Mom says that they have lived here on our property for longer than I have, and, like me, they belong here. She says that if I think about it, we have a lot in common. We are both furry. We have bushy tails and she says we can flirt them over our backs to punctuate our sentences. We both bark, each in our own ways, and can bark at each other for minutes on end, me from the ground, the enemy from the safety of the trees. The enemy is small enough to fit into Mom’s pocket; my nose is small enough to fit into Mom’s other pocket. We both have four feet and two eyes and two ears that sometimes prick in the air and sometimes lie close to our heads. We both run fast and like digging in the flower pots. Well, actually, I only started to THINK about digging in the flower pots one time to see what the enemy had buried, and Mom let me know that doggy digging was forbidden, at least in the flower pots.
The enemy and I are very different, though. I run on the grass and dirt; the enemy runs on the grass and dirt and the trees and fence tops. I am not very good at climbing; these little buggers can climb straight up the chimney! The enemy is black. The enemy is also gray and buff. I am sable and white. The enemy eats almonds and avocado pits and cherry plum seeds and can plant walnut trees in the ground. I eat bones and raw food and plant my butt on the butt coolers in the house in the summertime. The enemy can sneak up on me from above and drop empty walnut shells on my head. I don’t remember ever sneaking up on anything. But mostly we are different because never, not once, have I ever been chased by one of these guys.
No comments:
Post a Comment