The Geezer always says, “You never know why another man’s point of view is different from yours until you walk in his shoes for a week or two.” That goes for paws and claws as well, as I learned this morning.
First, let me explain–I’m in the figurative “dog house” right now. My sense of adventure, my keen nose, and a gourmet pallet betray me occasionally. Mrs. G. had this scrumptious smelling item protruding from her purse. She’d left her handbag lying next to her bed, right where I sleep each night. ‘Bout midnight I woke up, suffered a little insomnia, and became very bored. I sniffed the item and it smelled like it might be delicious. It was an envelope about 3″ by 6″ and had some bank’s name printed on it. Let me shorten the explanation by saying it was filled with delicious tidbits. I preferred the ones with 20 printed on them and engraved with a picture of some guy named Jackson. The Lincolns were okay, but the 1’s were kind of plebeian. I ate them all even though some weren’t particularly tasty; I detest wasting food.
As I was finishing, my lip smacking woke my humans. They quickly explained what I had eaten wasn’t the equivalent of a Purina Dog-Bone and left no doubt my behavior was unacceptable. Their unreasonable attitude was carried over until this morning. I was exiled to the back yard, tethered to my anchor ring, a punishment post used when I pulled some puppy pranks in my youth. The Geezer calls it “time out.”
I’ve learned the best way to slip out of my predicaments is to beg the court for mercy. I dawn my best “I’m guilty, but contrite look,” and exude remorse from my pupils. Those sad-sack eyes normally melt the old boy, but he was resolute this AM, leaving me to “suffer” alone. Big deal. I quickly found an interesting patch of vile smelling grass, rolled onto my back, and wriggled around, thoroughly enjoying myself.
As I tossed my head and waved my paws in the air, a voice said, “Pssst, hey you.”
I rolled over springing up on all four and was hyper alert. I looked around the yard, but couldn’t see who spoke.
“Over here, I’m behind the Bougainvillea bushes.” Looking at the greenery from a distance didn’t help; I couldn’t see the voice’s owner. I trotted to the thorny vines and stared into them. Glaring back at me from the other side were beady eyes, housed in a bird’s head. My visitor was huge for a fowl, colored black-brown, with long spindly legs and a red beard. I watched him suspiciously.
“I hate to deal in stereotypes, but are you a dumb dog or did the cat get your tongue?”
“Neither,” I growled. The birds eyes showed alarm.
“Whoa, stay cool man. I’m just a jive turkey looking for a little a-ssist, dig?” The bird took a step back.
“Insulting a stranger you’re asking for help isn’t very smart, buddy.” I decided I didn’t like my visitor.
“Hey, my species isn’t known for high cranial capacity, aaa, what did you say your name was?”
“Cool! I’m Tom. You don’t happen to be a vegetarian, do you?”
I thought about the reason I was tied in the yard. “Not strictly, omnivorous I think you call it.”
“So you eat meat?” He answered his own question, “Yep, I thought so. The poodle down the street said she didn’t, but she lied. Good thing she didn’t have wings.”
I visualized my neighbor across the hedge, sans feathers, headless, with the less succulent portion of his legs removed, sitting on a large platter with his golden skin giving off sumptuous odors. My tongue protruded and the saliva began to drip.
The turkey moved back when he saw the change. “Now, Sandy, calm down. I don’t like that look in your eye.”
“Sorry about that.” I tried to sound sincere all the time wondering if I could dislodge the anchor from the ground or break my leash if I pulled hard enough.
“Good man, you just stay cool. I just want to ask a few questions, dig?”
“I’m NOT a man,” I said coldly, “but I understand and I’ll answer you if I know what your talking about.”
“Yo, Sandy! Sorry dude-ette, but you folks all look the same to me. No offense?” Tom was trying, but like he said the rocks in the driveway had a higher IQ.
“None taken, Tom.” I lied, still focusing on how to get lose and get a paw and chaw on my visitor.
“Let me explain, Sandy. Put yourself in my position. I want to know if this is a safe place to hide from them. Between now and the end of the holidays my kind lives in constant fear. We don’t know who to trust. It seems everybody is after us. They all want a part. During this month and a half, danger lurks everywhere. It doesn’t matter what color we are, the whole world is hungry to get fed by us. My white cousins tell me it’s just as bad or worse for them. They’re relentless. They have all types of devices to catch us and suck the life blood from our bodies this time of year. It’s six weeks of Hell, Sandy, Hell!!! You dig?”
I nodded as I pulled against the leash.
“just name someone, anyone, who has to endure this kind of annual intimidation, demoralization, and degrading treatment when all they want is to be left alone? If you can, I’ll commit Harri-Kari!” The turkey squinted his eyes and made them appear slanted.
I thought for several seconds, remembering some wisdom the old Geezer Gator has shared with me. “The US Taxpayer each March and April.”
I felt sorry for the turkey as he gasped his last. Well, just a little.
Note: If you enjoyed this tale from the dog-side, I have a short Christmas story that will appear on my blog for those that love to laugh. in early December