My dogs are not perfect. They are the obedience class rejects that other dog owners mock in class. Or, at least they would be, if they had ever gone to obedience class, which they haven’t. One of their most egregious traits is their barking. There are five of them, and they are Barkers.
They bark at all the usual stuff: wild animals in the yard; strangers that walk too close to the car; things that go bump in the night; they bark if they need to go out. But they also bark about all that other stuff.
Maria barks whenever I get on the phone. What better time to instigate play than when mom is otherwise engaged, holding that old-fashioned plastic receiver to her ear with a cord that only reaches so far; which is not far enough to grab her?
Taco barks at all the things that the rest of us can’t hear, because her huge Yoda-style ears sit on her head like giant satellite dishes. She’ll be the one to alert us to an alien invasion, because she’ll hear the radio signals while the ships are still circling Mars.
Lammy-Lamb barks because at fourteen, the couch looks higher than it did last year, and she’s not entirely confident that she can make the jump, so how about a little help please? And she barks because Waldo is giving her the evil eye and she is afraid to walk past him…so if you wouldn’t mind escorting me?
Waldo is not too small to jump on the bed, in fact, he is as big as me. But he stands next to the bed and barks because he needs me to hold the covers up so he can climb underneath and be covered ‘just so’, in order to hog the bed properly all night.
And Rocket-Boy barks anytime we are trying to nap to let us know that he is on guard duty and that we are safe under his watch; which
he states for us at fifteen minute intervals as if he is calling out “fifteen minutes and all is still well.” He also barks whenever he comes home from anywhere – which he does with his lips carefully aimed directly into one of Taco’s satellite ears, because…well, I’m not really sure why he does that…but it seems important.
No. My dogs are not perfect. But neither are my family or friends, and neither am I. They’re not perfect, but they’re perfect for me.