Doofus Dog Equals Doofus Dog Owner

It’s Tuesday and snow is falling in central Texas; now there’s a contradiction for you! When I woke up and looked outside this morning I thought I’d misplaced myself. Texas rarely has enough snow to even measure must less enjoy. Oh, the Texas panhandle has snow – it’s said there’s only a barbed wire fence between Alaska and Amarillo (barbed wire in Texas is pronounced ‘bob-wire’) but not where I live.

I was having my first cup of coffee, looking out the window and thoroughly enjoying the beautiful scenery when the telephone rang. On the other end was my neighbor that lives down the street and she was in a state of rabid displeasure. Seems she was of the opinion that God and all the angels in heaven had a vendetta against her personally because it was snowing. Experience with Verna and her rants – past and present – caused me to fall silent and just listen.

It’s hard to describe Verna as she’s not only one of a kind but could well be one of a species. She’s 59-years-old, a well-kept, attractive woman and totally sedentary and self-centered. Her house is spotless, her yard (year round) looks like a park and she’s the owner of the snottiest dog I’ve ever seen. She dresses like nine million dollars and if she ever takes her makeup off I’ve missed it. She’s widowed and has a sizeable railroad pension from her late husband. All-in-all; Verna doesn’t have a thing going on in her life to grunch about. She has her house cleaned by her maid, her yard done by her yard man, her dog groomed every two weeks and I have no doubt she even sends her high dollar underwear to the dry cleaners.

But I digress – Verna’s big problem this particular Tuesday is her entire schedule is disrupted by the snow and she’s close to a nervous breakdown over the situation. Her huge agenda for this day was a trip to the grocery store and the post office – now there’s a couple of real biggies right there. After ascertaining Verna had enough groceries in the house to prevent starving to death I went back to listening to her woes and wails.

Seems her snotty dog is also stupid as he fails to wipe his feet and brings all that nasty snow in her house. The dog wouldn’t weigh 20 pounds on it’s best day (yes, it’s an "it" as Verna wouldn’t have anything near her that even suggested interest in things sexual) and just how much snow can one slew-footed dog bring into a house? The dog not only has taken on her personality but looks somewhat like her.

Her "Max" is a pure bred Schnauzer – it’s true ‘cause we’ve all seen his papers – and his nose and her nose match up. He also still has his whiskers – she waxes her’s off religiously – hence her constantly inflamed upper lip. Max also has a wardrobe to die for – if one’s a dog and into doggie clothes. He has coats, rain coats, dog boots, a bathrobe, t-shirts with his name on them, goggles, sunglasses and a variety of hats. I never inquire into Max’s wardrobe but can’t help but wonder since Max has a bathrobe does he sleep in doggie pajamas? In my demented mind that possibility looms large.

My last encounter with Max nearly turned into a neighborhood riot – this was before the dastardly snow began to fall! It was a beautiful, sunny day and I decided to take my two Cocker Kids for a neighborhood stroll – on a split leash. The three of us were not even on the sidewalk but, walking down our quiet street, when out of no where Max dashed out to greet us – wild loose! Max being loose on the town is about as rare as snow falling in Texas so to say I was surprised – not to mention my two dogs – is a definite understatement. Max had on one of his "Ain’t I Cute" t-shirts – pink – and a hefty rhinestone collar sparkling in the morning sun.

My two dogs were as impressed with Max’s garb as I was and immediately began a tug-of-war with the goofy t-shirt the dog was wearing. Now, my two were under control to a degree but Max was wild loose and on a roll. Bottom line – Sam, the puppy, had Max’s t-shirt firmly clinched in his jaws and was swinging Max around like a whirling dervish when Verna came bolting out from behind her house screaming like a banshee.

Her screaming proved to be too much for my old Cocker, Jake, and he decided Verna was an enemy to be reckoned with. When she came running to rescue the errant Max; my Jake made her understand he’d bite off any part of her he could reach. To her credit, she understood and was reduced to standing on the curb and screaming. Neighbors came running out of every house on the block as they were firmly convinced murder was either imminent or had been committed and the body found.

In short order, with Verna still screaming on the curb, Sam the puppy had torn the expensive t-shirt off of Max (whom, I’ve now decided, is distinctively light in the loafers) and is delightedly throwing the garment in the air and fetching it. Old Jake still has Verna at bay on the curb and every neighbor that’s come outside to view the events is rolling with laughter. In fact, the whole thing had become funny to me, too, but Verna found no humor whatsoever in the situation.

When Sam tore the t-shirt off of Max the little doofus became air borne and rolled to the curb at Verna’s feet. She picked him up, promptly broke into tears and retreated into her house. Sammy was totally unimpressed with the ruckus he’d caused and only grudgingly gave up the t-shirt that was still dangling out of his mouth. Jake, believing he’d protected his little family and averted certain death for all three of us was strutting around proudly and still growling deep in his throat. I’d finally given up to laughing uncontrollably while I sat on the curb when Verna re-appeared – sans tears. She was mad as hell.

Not only me, but my two dogs, listened attentively as she ranted, raved and carried on like we were a pack of lions who had attacked her doofus dog with malice aforethought. I got up from the curb with the "Ain’t I Cute" doggie t-shirt still in my hand and waited. I’d just decided trying to defend myself or my dogs was useless and out of the question when old Jake took care of the whole situation.

Verna finally had to stop shouting at us long enough to take a deep breath or choke to death and my old Jake chose that exact time to walk as close to Verna as he could get, lifted his leg and….well, guess you can figure out the rest. To make matters worse, Sam the pup, who does everything old Jake does, followed suit and although neither dog actually peed on her leg they were very, very close. I chose that moment in time to jog off, dragging both dogs with me, as if I’d stayed there my laughter would have promulgated a heart attack for Verna.

Apparently my transgressions and those of my dogs have been over shadowed by today’s snow as it’s the first time I’ve heard from Verna since the incident in the street. In a way I was rather relieved she had something else to complain about as I’m not going away and neither are my dogs – the snow, however, will eventually dissipate. Anyhoooo – her call to me this morning ended when she finally tired of lamenting over her aborted grocery store and post office trip and went back to poor Max having to go outside in "this nasty snow mess." Now, I ask you, how hard is it for a dog to go outside with a sweater, a coat, snow boots and a hat? Probably not hard but the purpose of the outside visit could definitely be thwarted due to so many clothes (obviously the regal Max doesn't have his own potty in the house!)

I feel sorry for folks like Verna as they find no joy in life whatsoever and spend a lifetime keeping everything in it’s place and functioning properly. Essentially they are owned by the things they own and control all of them with an iron will -- considering such control a duty. I’m considering taking my two, terrible, dogs for a walk in the snow this afternoon – just because we’ll enjoy it.

Before we leave the house I’ll make a little sign to leave in Verna’s yard to prevent further incidents:

"Verna, we stopped by this afternoon -- be sure to tell Max not to eat (or roll) in the yellow snow!"