I hear tell the road to hell is paved with good intentions
And Mama my intentions were the best Randy Travis in "Good Intentions"
Mark Twain once suggested that the second week of January is a good time to begin paving hell with all those "humbug" resolutions we make on New Year's Day. This year, buoyed by research that shows that one-third of these well-meaning intentions don't even last a month, I've resolved to be realistic, and I didn't make any resolutions. So I won't be out there on the paving crew with the rest of you.
I have, however, decided to translate my dog's goofy goals for 2008. Having lived with this hound from Hades for several years now, I know just what she's thinking. Surprisingly, she's a fairly eloquent, if limited, thinker. So without further ado, here's Ebony's Rompin' Rover Resolutions:
1. I will win the war of the noses.
I will become a more sophisticated combatant in the war of the noses. I will devise a way to stick my snout into areas requiring sniffing without being swatted. This includes the canine Holy Grail, that delectable repository of delight the humans call The Trash. I will never cease and desist, but I will try to remember not to be caught with my head in this tasty troth when the often hysterical human female known as Mom enters the room. Instead, I will do my trash trolling in the presence of the wonderfully clueless bipeds called Boys. They don't seem to mind if my nose makes it way into The Trash, and they don't appear at all upset if my schnoz smells interesting areas on their bodies. I will avoid at all costs placing my proboscis near the private parts of the crotchety human named Grandma. The repercussions just aren't worth it, and, due to excessive use of a nasty people product apparently called soap, Grandma's bouquet is very boring. Better to stick to the malodorous males.
2. I will take my revenge on the rodent.
This will finally be the year I satisfy my hankering for the hamster the homo sapiens refer to as Sunset. The rotten rodent has thus far successfully evaded my righteous quest for her hide, mocking me with those beady black eyes and even nipping my nose when I managed to get it inside her cage. Once, in a short but sweet moment, I actually got the luscious lab rat in my mouth. But, alas, defeat was snatched from the jaws of victory (literally) when a certain high-pitched young human given to screaming caught me in the act. I refuse, though, to give up. I will soon make a snack out of Sunset.
3. I will emulate my enemy.
I will learn to imitate the subtlety of my foe, the neighborhood cat who prances spitefully on our front porch right before my eyes. When I justifiably launch a blistering volley of barking designed to alert my family to this brazen intrusion, the clever cat seems to vanish into thin air, leaving my humans to look at me like I'm stupid. I will borrow a page from the kitty playbook and cover my tracks. No longer will I drag my backside across the carpet a perfectly normal act that is very effective in scratching annoying anal itches when Mom is able to see me. This causes her to howl like one of my wolf ancestors and me to be evicted from the house for unreasonable periods of time. Nor will I leave remnants of chewed human items that have passed through my digestive system just lying around the yard. I will learn to bury the evidence and come out smelling like a rose, thereby negating the need for a bath. I will figure like a feline.
And finally
4. I will do a better job of walking the woman.
I will take pity on the inferior joints of my somewhat heavy human and go easy on her during our walks. All bets are off, though, if I get a whiff of another dog, a squirrel, a cat or, best of all, a fragrant splotch of roadkill. Then I will be forced to wrench her arm out of its socket and twist her knees til they tremble as I lunge against my leash in my attempt to investigate. This would not be necessary if my hominid was in better shape and could run with me. Maybe that should be one of her New Year's resolutions. I'll let her know.
Jackie Papandrew is an award-winning writer and editor. Her nationally syndicated humor column -- Airing My Dirty Laundry -- appears in several newspapers in the United States, as well as on numerous websites. You can learn more about Jackie at JackiePapandrew.com or visit her blog -- Airing My Dirty Laundry The Blog.
Jackie's hilarious book -- Airing My Dirty Laundry -- will soon be published. Visit her website to learn more.
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» left by LM Davids (330 days 22 hours ago.)
Jackie, I think your pup has been talking to mine. Thanks for reminding us of the fun our pets add to our lives. Respond to this comment
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