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WHAT
GOES UP By
Mary Koch To
err is human, to forgive canine. Or have I already used that line? Oh, well. It’s
worth repeating.
Yes, it’s me again. Sadie, the people dog. I
know I wrote just a couple weeks ago, but no one else has done
anything worth telling about. After I wrote about my
up-coming tenth birthday, I received an e-mail from a reader in
Oroville. Name’s Bear.
Bear reported that he also would turn 10 on Aug. 11 and wondered
if we could be related. His AKC registration listed his sire as
Bricksclose Ranger and dam, Sasha Jewell. I hadn’t mentioned my
lineage because I didn’t want to sound uppity or bragging, but after
all, I am a purebred English springer spaniel. There’s no use denying
greatness.
Turns out, Bear and I are brother and sister. Our humans even
knew each other and had conversed about us without tumbling to the fact
that we’re related. Bear’s humans had adopted him out of the Animal
Shelter at age three, so he’s apparently had his “ups” and
“downs” in life.
My first decade of life has been pretty much all “ups.”
Proof of that is the frequency with which the boss lady yells
“Sadie, get DOWN.” * *
*
THAT PRETTY much describes what happened on my tenth
birthday. The Boss’s good friend Mary H. came by with a gift. I knew
it was for me because even the shrink-wrap couldn’t cover up that
great, slow-roasted rawhide smell. There’s nothing like the enticing
aroma of barbecued rawhide to push my saliva glands into high gear. One
sniff and I’m all slobber. The boss
lady was showing the card and gift to The Boss, who was relaxing in his
recliner. I, of course, was almost beside myself with excitement. I
figured I ought to demonstrate my enthusiasm. So I jumped up on The Boss
to get my jaws around that rawhide. I faintly recall hearing the old “Sadie, DOWN!” I
clearly remember my collar suddenly tightening around my throat and the
boss lady hauling me across the room. Then everybody pretty much ignored
me as the boss lady cleaned and bandaged The Boss’s bleeding arm where
I unintentionally left some claw marks. You’d think I’d be in the dog house after that,
but I learned an important thing. On birthdays, even I can do no wrong.
The Boss denied being in pain despite all the blood, and the boss lady
said it wasn’t my fault. She blamed herself for not realizing I would
jump to get the rawhide. * *
* THE BOSS lady does behave strangely at times. For example,
whenever someone gives her a treat, she likes to put it aside for a
“special” event. Treats around here gather dust, even get moldy,
waiting for a special event that never comes. So I worried when she put my gift in the middle of
the table, off limits to me. When, if ever, would there be an event
special enough for me to get my rawhide bone? After several frustrating
days, I finally decided to create my own “event” while the humans
were away from home. Jumping up on the table was no problem, but getting
the shrink-wrap off the bone was tricky. Nevertheless I had the whole
thing halfway devoured when suddenly the door opened, and there were my
people. I froze, waiting for the usual “bad dog” lecture. Instead, the boss lady just sighed, reached for the
rawhide, removed the rest of the pesky shrink-wrap and gave it back to
me. To err is human; to be a forgiven canine, divine. © Mary Koch, Omak, Washington 2006 |
