|We need to talk|
Hiya, says Jager. So, what are you doing right now? Nothing, right?
Actually, I say. After I make this grocery list, I need to pull the laundry out of the dryer before things get wrinkled and then empty the dishwasher. Stuff like that, because you know. Saturday and all. Why?
Aw, I dunno. says Jager. It’s just that my terrier senses are tingling and there’s adventures happening out there somewhere. And I’m, well . . . He pauses to look up and turns those big dark eyes to me.
I’m sitting here watching you shuffle through coupons, he says.
Aww, my little spotted dog needs some attention, ’tis true. Before we were puppy raising for Canine Companions for Independence, Jager was an only dog at our place. And from nearly his first Gotcha Day, he enjoyed spending his days at the office, socializing and noshing upon complimentary dog cookies.
Then we started volunteer puppy raising and the attention shifted. After a while folk in the office started to notice as well.
We never see Jager anymore, went the usual lamentations. It’s not fair, we miss him. Someone threatens to start a grass roots movement in support of the little guy and get some billboard ads for me to come across on my commute to work.
The fella enjoys a solid fan base. Have I ever mentioned how much I love my teammates at P&G? I really do. It doesn’t even bother me when my dogs are greeted first with happy voices, then it’s Oh hey, Donna. I love people who love my dogs.
And after seven years of co-habitation with the Jagermeister, we’ve certainly hit a groove. He’s a low maintenance kinda guy, which has the unfortunate side effect of getting less attention than the other dogs.
So today, we’ll honor the freaky little spotted dog by allowing him to share his thoughts of profundity.
Which had to be rewritten after explaining to the former street dog that profundity is way different than profanity.
Oh. Well, said Jager. That changes everything.
Jager’s Dog Nose Wisdom
- When given a dog cookie, drop it and look miserably sad. You’ll get a different cookie. Eat both.
- You don’t have to speak Squirrel to know the tree rats are up there mocking you.
- I wonder if squirrels taste like chicken.
- Don’t underestimate the importance of alerting when the neighbors get home. My code is ten barks per car door slamming. More if I think everyone’s lost count and I have to start over.
- The people who live here can’t count.
- My middle name is Quiet! I don’t really like it much.
- By the way, it’s not attitude, thank you very much. It’s Style.
- Always growl when chasing the tennis ball because that will intimidate the stupid thing.
- When around dogs bigger than me I can magically make myself the same size. On good days, I can be even bigger. I’m awesome that way.
- In my world, size does matter.
- Standing on your toes while lifting one leg is an acquired skill. Let’s just see you try it, puny hooman.
- When getting on the bed, start off as a tight little ball. Then stretch out until you’re the size of a Rottweiler. If you’re already a Rottweiler, think livestock. Don’t forget to lock your joints.
- I chase the cat because he asked for it.
- I wonder if the cat tastes like chicken.
- I love almost every person I meet. So if I act like I don’t like someone, pay attention.
- If you eat a box of the Food Lady’s fancy-nancy chocolates and get your stomach pumped at the vet, it’s still worth it. Because you know. Car ride.
- Chocolates don’t taste like chicken.
- I don’t understand this word fixation. I thought you called it a tennis ball.
- Yeah, I realize that I haven’t missed a meal in seven years, but before I moved in here I used to be hungry. What you call food aggression is just me being scared.
- A tilted head will make people smile at you. Guaranteed.
|This is like a training wheel for catching squirrels.|