What’s Shayna thinking? Maybe this . . .
My boss (joke) didn’t get his morning paper on Friday the 13th. He blamed me and told me so.
There’s something wrong with that study in England that said I can remember 200 words. I distinctly remember a dog trainer telling my feeder I have a 15 second memory. Now I can use whichever I please, and I do.
And, even though I know 200 words doesn’t mean I can respond to ‘Shayna, where are you?? Twenty of the words I learned from Mr. S are spelled &*^%$#.
Besides, I don’t believe he knows 200 words.
My water provider makes strange noises, then looks at me and asks, ‘Did you do that?? What? He probably thinks that sound is one of his 200 words.
He knows I’ve got good ears ’cause in a sound sleep I can hear a cookie wrapper open, a peanut butter lid turn and a bacon bit fall on the carpet. He’s so noisy I might as well spend all my time in the kitchen.
Get a load of this!
On a recent Sunday morning Jim (sometimes he lets me call him Jim) was applying Edge shaving cream, so he offered me some in his hand. It was pretty good, which prompted him to ask (again expecting me to talk), ‘Do you like shaving cream, peanut butter or vanilla ice cream best??
What a choice! What about bacon, corn flakes, roast pork, sausage and weiner pieces, fried fresh side pork and a bug?
He knows one of my favorites is soapy water seeping under the shower door.
So, my master (another joke) gets done shaving and offers me some underarm deodorant. It’s him from whom the odor emanates, not me. Emanates is one of my 200 words.
I’m sick of hearing him yell at me when he stands around naked saying, ‘Don’t look!? If I could talk I’d tell him I want to go outdoors and throw up.
Back to my 15 second memory. I wonder if Edge Progel Shaving Cream could use me in a commercial? I could show my love for it by licking faces, armpits, legs, whatever. I love licking. And, watch me sometime. I lick a few places that make my care-giver turn his head.
The best treatment I get from my now-favorite person is a ride in his van. It’s got room to wander, windows to give me fresh air (with him I need it), padded flooring and elevated lookout perches.
Most of the time I can sit up straight and watch the scenery, which to me means other dogs. But, sometimes, for no real reason ‘he? tries to throw me off by stopping too suddenly.
I found it really irritates him when I get in his drivers seat when he parks. I deliberately ignore his shouting ‘Get off!? but move when he sticks me with a car key.
But, usually he smiles as he blows my discarded hairs off his leather seats.
If I could talk I’d tell him he’ll appreciate me next winter when I make his seat warm. I hope this thought I have now of not sitting in his seat in December lasts longer than 15 seconds.
The best of my live-in experience is the riding. The worst is putting up with his singing. His vocal music is like fingernails on a blackboard to me.
I know he loves me but I wish he’d leave his love song choices to those he tries to imitate – Nelson Eddy, Al Jolson, Perry Como and Eddy Arnold.
His ‘When I’m Calling You – ou-ou-ou? is just plain awful. And ‘Suwannee? isn’t my name, it’s Shayna. ‘Til The End Of Time? and ‘Anytime? may be great to him, but I like P-Diddy.