…..Mister Slurpee struck again!
Yes that darn beagle was-Oh wait, you guys were thinking---Such naughty minds you have. I`d TSK everyone but since my mind has been in the gutter since the summer of `75 it might come off as hypocritical. It all started with Gene Simmons and-Perhaps that`s best left for another time. Since I already slipped from G into PG I have to try to behave. Key word-Try!
Ahem, yes where was I? Oh yes the return of Mister Slurpee. Now to see him he may not seem to be anything but a sweet little beagle, all sad hound eyes and innocence oozing from his doggy pores. I mean, look at this face—
Could something that darling do something to earn such a foul moniker? Oh yes he can, has and did. For some reason unbeknownst to me or my husband Tinker sleeps with us on the bed. Why he cannot sleep with Miss Yodeling, who has only one human in her bed, I cannot say. Perhaps Mister and I are just so much cozier?? Whatever his reasoning Tinker is always in our bed as soon as we place our rumps to it and sometimes even before. I`ll not get into the bad habit he has of wadding up ONLY Mister`s pillow to sleep on (Try finding to locate a dog hair in your husband`s ear canal for some real marital fun!) or the fact that Tinker seems to be made of Flubber, whereas you nudge him to the floor and he bounces back immediately.
I won`t mention any of those things because I already did it seems. I can deal with the dog hair in my husband`s inner ear and the boinging beagle. What I can`t seem to handle as I`m trying to go to sleep is his obsessive habit of foot slurping. That sound seems to just whittle down my brain until all I can hear is dog chewing foot. Slurp-Slurp-Slurp-Slurp-Slurp-Slurp-Slurp…..Oy!
Last night my hubby was sound asleep when I crept back to bed. Once I got all situated and comfy Tinker flubbered from the floor and deposited his beagleness against my lower lumbar. No problems I thought, I`d rather have him at my back then by my legs. Then the slurping began accompanied by the bed wiggles when he really gets into it. Now generally when our bed wiggles I don`t complain. Feral! Behave yourself! Geez I`ll be into an R rating faster than a three-legged cow running downhill if I don`t watch myself!
I laid there for about three minutes then sat up and hissed at the dog to stop. The slurping and wiggling stopped. I sniffed and lay back down. Mister muttered something about long-beards or Winnebago`s then resumed his soft snoring. I had this fine line of dialog running through my mind as I awaited Morpheus then it started again. Another couple of minutes passed with slurping and wiggling that was not entertaining for me in any capacity and I sat up once more and hissed louder. I also threw in a finger wag to drive home my point to the hound with the foot fetish. When all was quiet I dropped back down with flair and tried to relocate that dialog from a few minutes ago.
The third round of wiggling and slurping was enough. I bolted upright like Zeus had prodded me with a bolt of lightning.
“Tinker, stop chewing on your rassafrassin` feet!” I shouted. Mister jerked awake instantly.
“What the rassafrassin` is going on?” he mumbled with a mere tint of aggravation. (Mere tint and rassafrassin` are artistically licensed and do not reflect the actual words or amount of exasperation.)
“Oh that dog was chewing on his feet again!” I huffed and flopped back to my pillow.
“Think you can scold him a little more quietly?”Mister asked and rolled over with attitude.
“I think I can stop at Rockwell`s (A pet and farm supply store in our local town of Wellsboro) and get me a bottle of Bitter Apple come Friday,” I replied and hoped both man and dog heard my dire warning. Not that Mister would mind me buying Bitter Apple of course but I figured one warning shot for both males in the bed should work to take the sass out of both of them.
It must have worked because I didn`t hear a peep from either my husband or Mister Slurpee afterwards. Isn`t it odd what strange habits dogs get into? My mother-in-law used to have this little dog named Penny that was a foot chewer. Personally Tinker is my first dog with this compulsive tic and for the life of me I don`t know what makes him gnaw on his own toes! He has calluses on the top of his front paws from this rather annoying, and damp, habit. So come Friday Feral will be grabbing a bottle of Bitter Apple when she is uptown. Does anyone else have a dog with this peculiar foible? Any suggestions on how to cure it aside from canine counseling?
I do know that tonight when I lay down the bed had better not be wiggling….at least from a dog masticating upon his digits that is! *Waggles brow*
A big yodel of welcome goes out to Matthew H. Davidson. Welcome to the hillside farm!