A Dog's Work is Never Done
My
head's spinning around. Once again I'm entering into one of my storms of
consequences. (This usually happens after I eat some unidentifiable
rotting carcass out in the forest.)
It's one of the greatest trials in dog history. Schweenie Bob stands accused of doggie-style sexual assault (a class-D felony). After showing the jury a key piece of evidence - a dried-up, round, wrinkly thingie gathered up from the crime scene - his defense attorney, Corgi Cockran in his closing statement, rears back on his hind paws with his front paws waving in the air and barks to the jury, "If the rubber don't fit, you must acquit."
The storm passes.
About 9:00 pm last night. Richard was watching a movie. Me and Max saw a big fat fly buzzing around the floor lamp. We started barking and jumping up to chomp it. It was up too high, but we kept barking and jumping. Richard put us in the laundry room and said we couldn't come out until we shut up and went to bed. We shut up, and he let us out. I don't know why he got mad. It was just a crummy movie about some ghosts on Mars, and the special effects were lousy.
This morning. Woe is us! We have an infestation of ravens in our backyard. Well, two of 'em actually. They're polluting our birdbath - it's really my personal outdoor water fountain. (Max is too short to reach the water so he can't use it.)
Here's what's going on. We're at the beginning of summer here in the highlands, so it's real dry outside. We're probably the only place with fresh outside water in the neighborhood. So these ravens use the birdbath to wash and eat their food. (Alice thinks they're nesting nearby.)
Usually they bring in peanuts in the shell, crack the shells, eat the peanuts, and leave the shells in the birdbath for us to clean up. Our neighbor Charlie puts out peanuts in her backyard, so there's plenty for the ravens to eat. They like to dip their food in water before they swallow it.
But it's not just peanuts. Yesterday one swooped down with something wrapped in aluminum foil. It was probably a soft taco or a tamale from our nearby Julioberto's Mexican Cantina and Topless Bar. The raven unwrapped and ate it and left the aluminum foil in pieces all over the place. I tried to clean it up, but the grit of aluminum foil on my teeth drove me nuts.
Today one flew in with something that looked like pita bread. Before you know it, there will be falafel and grape leaves in our birdbath.
Why is all of this important, you might ask. Well, you wouldn't want to drink raven spit infested water would you? I didn't think so.
Me and Max are doing our best to impugnate this scurrilous violation of our privacy, security and health standards, but we can't be in the backyard all of the time. The ravens take advantage of this. They wait up in the trees drooling while they watch the birdbath. Once we go inside, they swoop down and do their dirty thing.
I've gone down the street trying to get some neighborhood dogs to join up for some shift work, but they're all so pampered they act insulted that I would ask them to do what they call "demeaning minimum wage labor."
I hate to say this, but maybe I could find some Mexican Chihuahuas who need the work. Everybody says they're hard workers. Go to any street corner on the Southside and you'll find 'em milling around waving signs at passing cars like "Trabajará para alimentos secos" (Will work for dry food.) "Necesita dinero para apoyar a la perra ya los cachorros." (Need money to support bitch and pups.) "Trabajaré si los perros blancos no lo hacen." (I'll work if the white dogs won't.)
I really don't know what to do. I'm sure our neighbors would not take kindly to having a bunch of illegal aliens in our backyard, chattering away and listening to the local Spanish radio station. Maybe if the Chihuahuas also did some landscaping work for the neighbors, it would be OK.
I'm back in the house. Oh no! There's another big fat fly buzzing in the window in Richard's office. Lordy, lordy, a dog's work is never done.
What the caterpillar calls the end, the rest of the world calls a butterfly.
~ Lao Tzu