cats dogs were fast as lightning …
Today I want to talk a little bit about things we are afraid of.
Like dead people?!?!
For example, I am afraid Dexter is going to shatter into a zillion pieces.
*After* he breaks Spring;s neck in half.
But mostly I wanted to talk about Wootie’s fear …. which is that someone will Find And Steal His Rawhide Bone.
If you try to take it, I will kill you. Dead.
Wootie and I play a game that Wootie *really* likes – I give him a stick or something and then I pretend to try to catch him and his stick while theatrically “sneaking” up on him, wiggling my fingers in front of me and sing-songing “I’m gonna get the Wootie Stick! I’m gonna get it!” (This is yet another reason why I moved to the stix. If nobody sees you engage in this kind of behaviour, nobody can call you crazy).
Mr. Woo thinks this game is *fantastic*. And I can do it whilst playing ball with the other dogs, so Woo gets some exercise too. I follow him around the field threatening to get his stick and he play-bows at me, and dives, ducks and weaves around (until he finds something better to do). I believe this is called “turning a ‘bad’ behaviour into a reward.”
We most often play it with a “Wootie Stick” but if I am feeling particularly wicked, I will bust out the “Wootie Bone” which is a rawhide from under the sink. Wootie is not all that enamored with rawhides, preferring his raw meaty pork bones, but he does recognize them as something of value. Therefore, he does not want to eat the the Wootie Bone, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have it either. So he paces around with it in his jaws making little whimpering whiny sounds and waving his Flamboyance™ in the air to let the other dogs know that he will kick the ass of anyone who tries to take it from him.
It’s mine and I don’t know what the eff to do about it!
Eventually, Woo decides the best thing to do is go and bury or hide it somewhere, so he can stop thinking about.
Nobody will ever find it here; I don’t even know what a telephoto lens is anyway.
Usually I keep on eye on where he’s hidden it, so I can make the game last longer by running toward his treasure cache and screaming that I am, indeed, going to get the Wootie Bone. But yesterday I discovered that I don’t even need to watch him hide it on order to find it. Such is our dogs’ great faith in our omniscience, Wootie believes I know where the Wootie Bone has been hidden even when I have no idea where he stashed it. All I have to do is threaten to get the Wootie Bone and he takes off at a dead run for his hiding place so he can get there before I do. He leads me to it every time. And then is ASTOUNDED that I can figure out all his favourite secret places.
This makes me feel powerful, so sometimes to further convince him of my greatness, I will tell another dog to “go find it.” They have no idea what they are supposed to be finding, but Wootie believes – *every time* – that I have sent my minions out to claim what is rightfully his, and then he leads them to it, barking and whining all the while.
OMG OMG OMG! He’s going to find the Wootie Bone and bring it to the Food Lady!
I believe this is called “f*cking with his head.” It’s no wonder, really, that the WooTWoo are so bad – if they were my kids, they’d probably be in therapy.
Another new thing for Wootie to be afraid of is my stellar aim. Today I flung the Flying Donut and managed to ring it around his neck in one go. Basically I turned him into a living Ring Toss game. It was a totally lucky once-in-a-lifetime shot, but Woo doesn’t want to play Flying Donut with me anymore.
HOW? How do you do these things?!?!
Here. Try that shizzat with me, beeyotch.
Poor Piper. The only thing she fears is nail clipping, and rightly so! The other day I was doing the rounds of the paws and I quicked her so bad that her toenail bled – I mean it PULSED blood – for over an hour and left pools of blood all around the house. She eventually had to go to bed with a giant padding of gauze and vet wrap twined around her foot. I felt really bad. But Piper’s feet are doing something I don’t understand – her outside toes are turning OUTWARD on all four feet, so her nails on those toes are laying almost horizontal to the floor, which is how I quicked her because I guessed the angle wrong. I want to say she is becoming, like, flat footed? It’s weird – anyone have any ideas?
TWooie’s biggest fear is that I will give him a bath with the hose. After all, he watched me do exactly that to the other 5 dogs this afternoon (well except for Tweed, who only got his undercarriage washed, because DAMMIT HE IS 12 YEARS OLD AND WILL NOT STAND FOR THESE INDIGNITIES!) from the safety of waaaaaay up the driveway. After each dog was bathed and toweled tried, they were ushered into the house until there was nobody left outside but me and TWoo.
I stood at one end of the driveway and he at the other and we stared one another down like a couple of gunslingers. A tumbleweed may or may not have rolled on by.
Nothing could convince him to come to me when called, not even when I asked him if he wanted to “get the bunny.” I got perky ears but not a single paw moved.
In the end, I moved partway down the drive and sat down in the gravel and asked him sweetly to please come to me for a cookie if I promised not to give him a bath. And he did.
Okay, I will come because I love you.
So TWooie and I spent about 20 minutes in the sun, sitting on the ground with him curled up in my lap on his back with his head resting on my chest, and we just loved each other quietly for a while. He wasn’t really all that muddy anyway :)
Stop being all sensitive and sh*t and come help me find a place to hide this that you’ll never find!