January 16, 2008

Life as a Dog

In the unfortunate circumstance that I precede my loving husband, Jim "Keeper" Hanna, in death, I want to come back as his dog.

Our current dog, Corky the French Bulldog, only has to be herself to be worshipped and adored by her daddy. Room and board, a nightly belly scratch, and no responsibilities? Life is good for little Corky.

I've been taking notes. Here's how I, reincarnated as Keeper's lap dog, will earn my master's love. To start the day, a lick or two on his nose. No need to worry about halitosis-he is delighted in spite of my haphazard dental hygiene.

I will jump up and down repeatedly to show my enthusiasm for our morning walk. I won't have to fake it-every day is a new adventure for dogs.

If I produce a prodigious pile of poo on our walk, my master will reward me with a biscuit and make up outrageous up stories about my prowess in the elimination department. To anyone who will listen, he'll describe the massive mountain that I made on the street as one that can only be scaled by experienced mountaineers, who upon their arrival at the peak will reenact a Ricola commercial.

I love making him proud. I will run to the food dish to make sure I am fueled up for my next performance. After all, there's an Alp in every can of Alpo.

While my master is at work earning money to buy me toys, I will grab a couple more hours of sleep, and upon waking will discover that Santa has come and left me a bone! Yes, it's the same one I had yesterday, but I forgot. I will run around the house and see if anyone wants to pretend to take it away from me. If they do, I will growl and back up, but not so far that they give up trying to grab it.

After everyone tires of "Gimme That Bone!" I will settle down for my daily chew, an activity that takes from thirty to forty minutes.

Then it's time for a quick stop outside and another nap, to be followed by a round of my favorite stuffed-toy game, "Where's the Monkey?"

My instinct will tell me when my Daddy is coming up the walk. I will go berserk, which he seems to find gratifying. He will scratch my ears and rub my belly before he even takes his coat off. That's just how cute I'll be.

Then dinner, a cuddle on the couch, another award-winning bowel movement and it's off to bed right next to Daddy, who doesn't mind sharing his pillow. I will be very, very careful not to have an accident because that's the one thing that freaks out the master. I can bite him, dig in the yard and even steal nuggets from the litter box. But if I tinkle in the wrong place it'll mean an hour in solitary for this sorry little puppy.

And if I'm really, really good? I'll get to pre-wash the dishes.