Pets can be steadfast friends, cuddly smoogies, or death wielding body bodyguards. We are allowed to live with a 12-pound Yorkshire Terrier at the home we pay a monthly mortgage on for her convenience and with her approval.
She has earned her keep to some extent by saving us, more than once, from stupid household accidents. If something isn’t right she’ll stand in front of it and barks ‘till we take notice. Like the time we left a pot on the stove and Coco (Satan’s name in Yorkie embodiment), threw a fit at the stove. Or like when she attacks the vacuum cleaner because we shouldn’t be using it anyway.
When I was sick she somehow knew instinctively there was something wrong and I needed extra attention. Perhaps it is some deep maternal thing, or maybe it was all the tubes coming out of my chest, or the daily injections that tipped her off.
Anyway Coco set up house next to me in the bed. Guarding me from the other dogs and surprisingly from my wife Kate. Coco chased the dogs away or would try to lure them outside away from me. It’s all quite complicated, but it had to do with her pretending there was something in the backyard, barking at it and when the two other dogs ran out in the backyard she’d tear into the bedroom with breakneck speed and dive under the blankets achieving the primary snuggling position.
One day she was particularly possessive (and apparently possessed) and she did this dance and with the dogs and dove under the sheets. Kate walks into the room to say goodbye for work or something and the dog flew out of from the sheets and launched herself, teeth bared, presumably at the neck of my wife. It was crazy.
I was on the far side of queen-size bed and the dog jumped from there, going up, and up and up across the bed and headed for Kate, never beginning the downward arc of her lunge. For a few second Coco defied gravity. She didn’t seemingly defy gravity – she did!
Kate always fleet of hands, snatched the dog out its upward flight, flipped it over and slammed it on the bed on its back. Then the dog started snarling and growling and hissing so crazily that Regan MacNeil from the Exorcist would’ve applauded.
The possessed dog finally escaped and dove under the sheets, clung to me and growled.
It was crazy.