When I get home with the groceries, you come to meet me, whining a little. Scott walks toward me from the bedroom. He's irritated. He tells me that you jumped and barked at two people while on your walk. You do this sometimes. We've had to train you to take a treat whenever anyone passes us, but sometimes you fake us out. You pretend to be peeing and then charge at the passing strangers, often frightening them to yelp and jump. Penny, I know you think you're scaring away the bad guys, but it's humiliating. Don't you hear my hollered apologies as I drag you away? Come on, I feed you. I walk you twice every day. I pay hundreds of dollars to the veterinarian to ensure that you are healthy. I dribble flea and tick prevention juice on your shoulder blades. I give you heart worm medicine and take you to the dog beach. ---Which is usually very fun, except for that late morning a couple weeks ago when you barked at that woman. Remember? She was walking alone toward the end of the beach and you ran at her barking. I called you away, but you wouldn't come. Then the woman yelled,
"She does it again and I'm gonna kick her."
This made me mad because I was embarrassed. I eventually got you follow me, but over my shoulder——instead of the apology I usually bellow——, I loudly mumbled,
"You're the one walking on the dog beach, ya fuckin' moron!"
I don't blame the woman now, of course. Hindsight exposes my foolishness. Really I should have yelled,
"I'm sorry she's barking at you, but if you kick her, she will probably bite you."
Because that's what I assume you'd do. You're a barker. I know that. You bark at people who make you nervous. You bark at anyone walking or jiggling keys in the hallway. And as far as I know, no one has harmed you as a result of your barking. However, I can only imagine your dog thoughts as:
THREAT!
BARK AT THREAT.
BITE THREAT!
Then there'd be a lawsuit that I would avoid by running away like a coward at the crime scene. A bite and run. Then we'd never be able to go back to the dog beach except to send Scott to scope it out. But when he'd come back to our camouflaged car, he'd say that there were signs and police sketches of Penny and I. "WANTED!" "CASH REWARD!" "DANGEROUS!" I'd have to quit my job and we'd both have to take on disguises, both shaving off our hair.
Luckily, though, you didn't bark again.
I continued to run toward the gate, blundering through the bumpy sand, sobbing to myself. I cursed you then, but you had already forgotten, following me with your pink tongue out, panting.
We pick up your poop with little plastic bags, Penny. Then carry your warm sacks of shit to the nearest trash receptacle. You will never grow up and learn to speak English. You will never be able to clean up after yourself. You won't be around to care for us when we're decrepit and diapered. You'll never really apologize for anything. You'll never be potty trained (though that time you were sick and crapped in the bathtub was pretty close). But, you are always here. When I cry, your head is on my knee or you're climbing onto my lap, your muzzle under my chin, licking my earlobe. When I get excited or smile, you wag your tail and if close enough, lick my lips. When I say, "GO" and unclasp your leash, you always run in a big circle ahead of me, checking on me before making another bigger circle in the sand. When I point and say, "Get the birds!", you always bound after the gulls, herding them toward the clouds above the bubbly blue water. In the morning, when we're both too sleepy to stand, you nuzzle into the curve of my waist and close your eyes, while I scratch the top of your head and rub your black ears.
You have problems, pup. You do. You're a nervous wreck. A head case. But that should be expected. You were, after all, found pregnant and tied to a pole with a black lab. So you're not always well behaved on the leash. And sometimes you bark at people. But you're smart, loyal and sweet when you feel safe. No of course you aren't perfect, but neither am I. But I promise to love you always and to one day, take you from this crowded cement city and return us both to the mountain woods.
