In retaliation to my fastidious, controlling mother, Berenice, I pride myself on being an artsy-fartsy free-spirit. Recently, though, I have learned that my casual lifestyle is an illusion. Apparently, there is an architecture of rules and regulations in my home to which I am not privy. This is Berenice's revenge from Heaven. The Angels From God have instituted a hierarchical structure as oppressive as any third world dictatorship. Ask any recent rescue foster. The pack re-shuffles itself with each new visitor, and the Angels From God are getting mighty tired of repeating themselves.
Check out Sophie's story.
|Take the case of Sophie. A big, beautiful standard girl...with balls of steel. Soph's first protocol violation was to plant her chubby butt down in the sacred crate...the same crate that I had to convert into a duplex...with rug and pillows up top... so Nikita and Toot could admire the view from a suitable vantage point. And, so, I see Soph occupying the sacred crate, glaring defiantly at Nikita, who is blocking the door with a look of horrified astonishment. He broke into his best Robert Preston/MusicMan impression...."Well, my friends, we got trouble right here in Quincy. Trouble...with a capital S, and that rhymes with Pest, and that stands for SOPHIE." Nikita's point was not taken, and soon thereafter, Soph received a proper "Angels From God" trouncing in the bathroom. The post-trounced Soph was a perfect lady.|
|Usually these misunderstandings are cleared up in the first day or two of the visitor's stay, and then it's smooth sailing. However, not in the case of Shrimp Scampi...who at 7 months old...has offended the Angels From God individually and collectively. There is nothing that the Angels From God hate more than a puppy. Especially Nadia....whose maternal instincts suggest Joan Crawford on crack. (Don't ask who had to pluck off the placenta on Nadia's three pups five years ago.) And so, Shrimp Scampi shows up, uninvited. He has broken all the rules...again and again. He pees in the wrong spot, eats out of the wrong bowl, plays with unauthorized toys, occupies inappropriate spots on the bed. Furthermore, he attempts to hump the female contingency of the Angels From God, of which he has mistaken Nikita a time or two. He has been barked at, growled at, nipped at, pushed and shoved, and peed on. Shrimp Scampi is not the sharpest pencil in the box...he is not getting the point. And so, this brings me to the incident of this report.||
The other night I was attempting to enjoy a "calgon" moment -- hot bath, candles, smooth jazz....when I heard the most savage, wild-beastly, from-the-gut growling. I turned to witness Nikita glowering over Shrimp Scampi, who was pinned in the corner next to the bathtub. I could not determine the specific offense that had instigated the disciplinary action. Nikita was in rare form....I have never seen him hold his breath, or the growling posture that long. He began to shake and tremble....his eyes on fire...there was steam coming out of his ears. Shrimp Scampi looked up at him, oblivious to his predicament, with his dopey smile and floppy ears, looking more like a furby than an Eskie. And then, I watched, stunned, as Shrimp Scampi leaned forward and gave Nikita a big kiss on the nose.
|Naiveté breeds courage. Nikita took a step back....looked at me and said "I wash my paws of this matter. This is entirely your problem." And, Nikita stalked out of the bathroom, with Shrimp Scampi, close behind, tugging at his tail. This innovative strategy seems to have bought Shrimp Scampi some breathing room in the pack. Nikita and Toot are ignoring him. However, Nadia has put herself up for adoption.|
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