So far I have covered many of the human DTRJH? moments I have experienced. This time, I have to cover some of the dog moments. Because they have these moments too, whether or not we realize it. Dogs are people too, just in furrier bodies. And then, mostly just 'cause some of us wax. But that's another subject. (My daughter does this for a living and the stories I could tell...) Tangent over. Moving on.
So I have made mention in the 'About Me' that I currently live with two dogs, one is my daughter's and one is my own. Maddie, my daughter's dog, in human form would be Pee Wee Herman and Lou Costello's love child. No, I'm not sure how this would work either, but trust me, if you ever met her, you would believe me. She is the most hyper dog I've ever been around (though thankfully some of that has finally ebbed with age). She used to act as if she'd just eaten a giant bag of Skittles and chased it with a 32 ounce Red Bull and Mountain Dew chaser. It's awesome. Her response to everything is, "You wanna play?"
Me: Maddie, Do you want to go out?
Maddie: You wanna play?
Me: Are you hungry? Do you want dinner?
Maddie: You wanna play?
Me: Maddie, sit. Sit, Maddie. SIT!
Maddie: What's that? You wanna play?
Me: Maddie, who did that on the carpet?
Maddie: Dunno. Here's the rope. Wanna play?
You get the point. Combined with this vivaciousness and effervescent joy, is the sweetest spirit you ever met. Overall, she's a nice dog. A nitwit and a lamebrain, but a nice, loving, kind, dog. And a coward. With a capital C, that rhymes with the pee that she just took on the rug...
So, think, 'Hey Aaaaabbooootttt! Th-th-there's a ghost!!' mixed with, Pee Wee's Playhouse and you get the drift.
Now, having set you up, I will proceed to tell you the story that, if I hadn't witnessed with my own eyes, I NEVER would have believed. Though I laughed 'til I peed, then Maddie said, "Mommy, who did that on the carpet? Here's a rope, wanna play?"
One summer day, I let Maddie out and went about my business in the house. A few minutes later I heard her barking. Not the, 'I'm bored, can I please come in, so I can ask you to let me out in another ten seconds,' kind of bark I am used to. This was a panicked bark. A call for help. For the police. The National Guard. The MOMMY!
I raced to her assistance, whereupon I found Maddie standing in the middle of the yard, all her fur on end, a look of terror upon her face, but still attached to her leash. The problem was, her leash was attached to the charcoal grill and every time she moved, the grill (which was on wheels) moved with her. Now, I instantly realized what was going through Maddie's tiny little terror stricken brain. 'The grill is chasing me. The grill is chasing me. MY GOD, THE GRILL IS CHASING ME!!!'
Naturally, I hurried toward her with the intent of rescuing her from said grill. But sadly, that was not to be. Maddie, who now saw The Mommy, saw a light at the end of the tunnel, and she fully intended to embrace it. With every ounce of her will, she struck out towards the deck, madly racing. Meanwhile, the grill, still tightly clinging to her leash, bumped and rattled after her, keeping up with her, every step of the way.
Okay, even I was amazed. What I wouldn't have done for a video camera at that moment. And, if I were to be completely honest, there are times when I have considered resetting the stage and reenacting the moment, if only to record it, but I don't think poor Maddie's heart could take the strain.
Okay, so back to the Dog Eating Grill.
Maddie raced on, casting glances over her shoulder every few steps, only to find to her ultimate terror that the grill was still hot on her tail. (literally: hot grill, her tail, hahaha, I kill me....) She looked again, and this time I think she was convinced it was gaining on her, because she then put on a burst of speed and agility I never thought her capable of. She flew the last few feet toward the deck, then leaped, like a gazelle I might add, over the steps and landed (SAFE!) on the deck.
The problem was, the grill by this point had already picked up some momentum. It bobbled and jerked the last few feet, smacked heartily into the steps, and with a resounding BANG, crashed onto the deck, whereupon the lid flipped open, just barely missing Maddie.
I'm still surprised she didn't faint like one of those highly entertaining fainting goats. If you haven't seen one, let me tell you, you are depriving yourself of a deep belly laugh.
Instead, she plastered herself against the door and pleaded with me to please, please, PLEASE, let her in. Which of course I did.
For two years Maddie would NOT exit the domicile if the grill was even in her sight. Every time you opened the door, she slowly moved outside, looking left and right, waiting for the menace that was THE GRILL to come back for her.
I think she must have seen too many scary movies during my daughter's teen years. She knows how it works, Jason, Michael, Freddy, THE GRILL. They ALWAYS come back.
On a side note, my father in law recently moved in with us, bringing with him his gas grill which has taken up residence on the deck. I thought Maddie would be fine with it since it looked so different from the charcoal one. And she was. To a point.
One day, my husband went to get the gas can re-filled or whatever it is they do (I use charcoal, what the heck do I know?) and unthinkingly left the grill slightly askew on the deck. And I mean slightly. A few inches crooked from its usual position.
I let Maddie out. She took one look at the grill and said 'OH NO! We are NOT having this!' All her fur on end, she growled, yipped, and made a beeline straight back into the house.
I'm sure she was convinced, that not unlike the Terminator, THE GRILL had come back in a new, more advanced, liquid metal, shape-shifting form: The Grillinator. And she was having no part of it.
Apparently, you CAN teach an old, though slightly addle-brained, dog new tricks.
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