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Dog Doogle Tails: Tails of Maggie & Katie
Anchors Aweigh!
by B. A. Brown
Directly behind my yard lives Vicky - a nice little b & w dog. ABout
the size of a pug, maybe a tad larger - but not with the pushed-in face.
Very cute.
Katie & Maggie love to go out (when called by Vicky - "Vicky needs our
help NOW!") and run along the fence line, back and forth, barking like
idiots.
This goes on until Vicky gets tired, and goes to sit on her patio.
Vicky is very overwieght, and does not have much stamina. Once she gives
up, Katie & Maggie get bored, and wander aimlessly about the yard until
they decide to come in.
Next door to Vicky lives The Bad Dog. We do not know The Bad Dog's name.
The Bad Dog is a pit bull. Apparently, when we first moved in, TBD made
some uncomplimentary comments about Katie's easterner accent, or maybe
she made fun of petey, or its a black/white thing, or - who knows. It
was instant hatred on both sides of the fence.
Fortunately, there is only a limited span of fence which the properties
have in common. Fortunately, TBD's owner has her on a pretty strict
schedule: out at 8:40 am, again just after 5 PM, then again at 11 PM.
I do not let my dogs out at these times.
Occasionally, he lets TBD out off-schedule. I can tell right away
because of the sounds: Katie & TBD both with deep-throated menacing
growls and barks, Maggie [safely] behind katie, barking very loudly and
earnestly ("Get her katie! Kill her!").
Accompanying the to-the-death sounds are the thumps of katie flinging
her body against the fence, scrambling, scrabbling, nails digging in,
trying to vault the fence, or knock it over by sheer will power.
I would really prefer that Katie not succeed in meeting TBD personally.
I run (jog...ok, walk fast) out to the backyard and start grabbing tails.
Evidently, when engaged in such important pugilistic activity, dogs
become deaf. Therefore, I need to be present and in the immediate
vicinity before I can get their attention.
Once I get there, the struggle is quickly over.
And I do try to get there quickly, because the fence which separates the
two is comprised of some rotten 2 x 4's, some turkey wire, and some
random pieces of old plywood. I doubt the assemblage will withstand
repeated katie-flingings.
Tonight, I let the girls out. I strolled over to the sink to start
making coffee. I am just running water into the carafe when I hear the
sounds.
Flinging, thumping, growling, menacing, barking.
I hustle outside. I grab Maggie's tail. She shuts up, and goes to the
opposite corner.
I grab Katie's tail. She promptly sits, looks at me with the "Oh, were
you calling us?" innocent look.
I herd them back toward the house, and in through the back door.
I find that, in my brief absence, the gods have conspired against me.
I thought that I had taken a precious second or two to shut off the
faucet before I went outside. I had not.
The height of the coffee carafe is perfect. It sits in the sink, and its
top just exceeds the height of the surrounding counter by a smidgen. A
smidgen sufficient to, once the carafe was filled, spill over onto the
counter.
And, having been filled, the water-from-faucet is now skipping gaily
o'er the top of the coffee pot and shussing over to the counter, from
thence curling down into the partially-opened silverware drawer.
The drawer, having been filled to capacity, is shedding the extra liquid
in a lovely cataract, splashing prettily upon the floor.
I turn off the faucet. I decide I do not want coffee. I empty the
contents of the silverware drawer into the sink. I upend the drawer onto
the drainboard.
I go back to the laundry room, grab some nice clean sheets and blankies,
throw them on the floor.
I leave the kitchen.
Maybe I will go back later.
Or maybe not.
..... and now, more Tails of Maggie & Kate (ongoing stories, please keep checking back to see what has been added)
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