Oswald apparently has a very particular morning routine. He spends about 15 minutes waking up in the mornings, after sleeping strategically next to my bed in such a manner that I have to be careful not to step on him as I get out of bed in the mornings. If he thinks that my feet are ever in too close of a proximity to him in the mornings, he gives me a death stare that could turn a grown man into stone. After he wakes up, he wanders into the back yard to have a sniff, but refuses to pee on anything. He must save all of his elite urine for his neighborhood patrol each morning. He eats his breakfast between 6:45 am and 7:30 am, which must always be prepared in a manner to which he is accustomed. If the breakfast preparation is not up to his liking, again, I receive the death stare. After breakfast we take our morning stroll between 7:00 am and 8:15 am, depending on if I drop the kids off to school in the morning or not. At this point his morning routine is complete and he settles into his mid-morning – early afternoon routine which consists of sleeping.
Well today started like any other day. I woke up, almost (but didn’t) stepped on the sleeping Oswald next to the bed, got up, and let the dogs out. A few minutes later they came back inside. All is fine. I fed them breakfast, and apparently the preparation was satisfactory because he ate it all. So far so good. This morning I drove the carpool to school so we left around 7:10 am and I told the dogs I would walk them when I got home. Again, nothing unusual.
Then I made one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made (in Oswald’s eyes). I dared to run errands on the way home from the school this morning. I stopped by a few vet clinics and coffee shops to put up some fliers for my pet sitting business, which seemed harmless enough. However, when I returned home at about 9 am, I was greeted by a very, very disgruntled creature. I walked to the kitchen to put my purse down and as I turned around Oswald was glaring at me from the dining room. I greeted him with my usual “Hey Buddy,” which was apparently his cue to let me have it!
He stood in the dining room, glaring at me, and barked for solid minute and a half straight. And not small little whiny woofs, he was seriously chewing me out for being late. I couldn’t quite catch all of what he said, but the points that I picked up on were:
- Some very unsavory name calling.
- My performance this morning was unsatisfactory at best.
- I was failing my duties.
- If it happened again, I was fired.
Then he paused, and I said “OK,” and then he mumbled something else and strutted to the front door.
At that point I didn’t even change my shoes, I just walked him in my flip-flops, afraid to delay the walk any longer.
All said and done, I think I’ve since been forgiven, but after some long thinking in the car this afternoon I realized something major- I was literally verbally assaulted by my own dog. Sigh. Life as a canine Butler isn’t easy, but someone’s got to do it.