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.
No comments:
Post a Comment