I’ve had an action-packed couple of days.
Besides the Marathon Cookie Bake, the toilet broke. Mom called Dad, freaking out that the water was running and running and running. Now, Mom has been after Dad for quite some time about the leaks in the toilet. But this time, the dam broke and the water flowed freely in the bowl with a loud flushing, rushing sound. Dad knew this would be costly in terms of the water bill, so he actually went into action and – pardon me if I use the “F” word – fixed something.
Dad on the ground was more than I could bear. The sight of him lying there with his head wedged between the wall and the toilet provided me with the flashmob opportunity of a lifetime. When Dad started hollering, in earnest, “Maggie, OFF!” Mom sprang into action, dragged me into the kitchen, and gave me The Look.
I couldn’t help it. When Dad said, “Get the paper towels” I took him literally:
Dad got the toilet fixed, but I had the Hairy Bullet mentality and I had it bad. So the next day (today), Mom and Dad had an afternoon appointment with some old friends. That left me and my nemesis, Jamie, alone in the house. I quickly turned into my secret identity, The Hairy Bullet.
While Jamie attempted to slip unobtrusively into the garage to get a can of soda pop, I darted through the sweet spot, nearly knocking him flat. Then I sniffed around the various piles of skateboards and junk until he pulled me into the house.
Feeling peevish that I was thwarted in my garage escapades, I snatched one of Jamie’s shoes that he had placed next to the back door. I ran upstairs in full bolt mode, and while chasing me, Jamie fell flat on his face. I was doing the typical terrier move of swinging the shoe around with my head, and I bashed Jamie on the side of his face, next to his eyebrow. I gave him a little black eye, but he put some ice on it and was OK. I, however, was summarily tossed in the crate and there I stay for quite some time.
When Jamie let me out to go to the potty, I dashed into the dining room, ears flat against my head, and grabbed up a gift that had been foolishly left on the floor (in a corner, next to the fish tank, supposedly where I could not get at them) and ripped the bow off the large box, and tore open the small box. Sailing past Jamie into the living room, I whipped Mom’s good Christmas fleece blanket off the couch and chewed a hole in the corner before Jamie could stop me.
Mom and Dad came home and I got a good berating and many scowls. No treat for me!
Mom says I do not behave for Jamie and the next time, she is going to crate me, so he doesn’t get another black eye from my Hairy Terror activities.
I guess I’m done for today. Tomorrow is another day!
Woof! Love, Maggie