Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Lord of the Castle
The residents of Casa Coffeewallah all know who the boss is, the male components both think it is them. I, lowly woman am very aware of my status as provider of lovies, food and back/belly rubs depending on the species. I'm also the cleaner, cook, laundress and walkies lady but that's another story.
In truth, the ruler of the roost is the hound. Of course he is, he spends more time in the castle than I do. He generally whiles away his day snoozing on my bed or under the bathroom sink with the occasional frantic barking at whatever just to let the neighbours know he is on the watch. At night he briefly patrols the yard but, having barked at Sandy next door and peeing on the gate requiring hosing, he bounds up the stairs and limes in front of the tv with whomever happens to be watching. When reprimanded for transgressions he has expressions ranging from, who me, to quizzical, eyebrow lifted to John Cleese in a FIsh Called Wanda.
The dog is a ham and an expert in turning up the guilt. He deserves an Academy award for his ability to sigh and assume the put upon position (left paw tucked under, right paw alongside nose, body slightly curled to allow tail to rest under stomach, ears folded back). It's hard to be mad at him when those big brown eyes radiate sincerity as you come in through the door at the end of a hard day, usually when he's eaten something he shouldn't have or tripped up the garbage can.
He is the best alarm clock on the planet. The rahtid animal will wake me, not the man, up at 5:30 AM to be fed, walked and what ever else. If, woe betide you, you fail to arise at his first nudging, he will, in order; hit you with his big head, paw at you from the side of the bed. If unsuccessful he will up his game, climb up on the bed and dig you out from under the covers. He knows that if he irritates the man enough, I'll get up to keep the peace. Yes, I know I'm being manipulated, the Dog Whisperer would have a fit but you know what, he doh live here. You try to deal with a ninety pound Partweiler when you're half asleep. I understand however, when I am not around, he will sleep until whenever his master chooses to arise and will be the model picture of faithful dog. Needless to point out, there are days when I wish they would all run away from home.
Of course we should have known when we got him. Having had the beautiful doberman die suddenly, the mutt was a substitute. He looked like a sweet puppy, all fuzzy, floppy ears, big paws and melting eyes. I eyed him, figured that he was going to be a big guy and called him Zeus. You think I would have known better names giving power and all that. Now he really does think that he's Master of all he surveys.