Charlie is obsessed with squirrels. Every morning, he gets up and immediately goes to the back door. It's not that he has to pee, he wants to be certain the squirrels didn't take over the world while he was sleeping. He diligently does his rounds and comes back inside to eat a well-earned breakfast. Then he posts himself by the back door and waits. He knows they're out there and that it's just a matter of time until they come out. Finally, a brave (or stupid) soul will venture down from the trees. Charlie responds, not so subtly, by whining, pacing, and occasionally barking. Never one to spoil the fun, I oblige him by throwing the door open and yelling "GO GET EM!". What fun.
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2 comments:
Fabulous. You don't say it with nearly the ferocity that we used with Sam and the poor kid down the street. I'd say work on you screech... =>
Yes, I remember how much fun it was to throw open the front door and roar "Get Em!" Sam and Jessie would launch themselves out the door alternately baying like blood hounds and howling with wolfish blood lust. It was great fun until the day I threw open the door and released the hounds of Baskerville, laughing maniacally, only to notice too late the neighbor with his baby in a stroller across the street. I think I gave the man a million gray hairs. If he’d had a gun, he’d likely have killed them---more likely he’d have shot me! I was mortified. I tried to appologize, but it came out badly. Maybe it was because once launched the maniacal laugh was hard to call back and it continued to quaver on my lips. Ever after that when I passed him walking on the street, his glower damned me afresh to the ninth circle of hell. I was never happier to see someone move.
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