Remaining True to One’s Bark

I have no idea where the phrase “work like a dog” comes from. All day I have been humping and sweating at roto tilling the lawn, while the doggies sat in the shade with something like an aristocratic indifference to my peasant labors.

After finishing up, I decided that a tuna fish sandwich was about as fine a dinner as I felt like preparing.

As I sat on the porch eating it, Peanuts and Rosco chased off to the perimeter to bark at a coyote that was howling on the hill. Fips barked too, but from the safety of the porch. Maybe he figured that since sound carried there was no need to move it closer.

After silencing the coyote, Peanuts and Rosco stood there by the fence, I suppose to make sure that that was that. Catching Peanuts in a profile with her funny face turned toward me and her tail curled up over her back, I burst out laughing.

I guess that in doggeze, a laugh translates into a species of bark and, on hearing the it, the two doggies decided this could only mean: FOOD!

The two of them instantly forgot Coyote and scrambled back, kicking up dust and side-swiping one another on the steps. Rosco made it to the table first.

Now, there was only one sandwich here and they had had their dinners. It didn't take Rosco more than two seconds to figure out what my intent was and what it was not. So he snorted. Just like that: SNORT!

Fuzzy indignation. Imagine! First the furless one sounds the alert, then he refuses to share. Welllll.... {frost}

So I ended up having half a sandwhich. After all, one has to remain true to one’s bark.

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