Back to School
Rex was driving me crazy. Again. He was doing things to deliberately drive me nuts, and he almost had me ready to check into the loony bin.
He would lay his head on my chest at night, and breathe doggy breath right into my face. When I tried to admonish him for a misdeed, he’d pee on the leg of the kitchen table. Once, it was my leg. When we went for a walk, he’d soon lie down, and I’d either have to drag him (which was tempting) or I’d have to pick him up and carry him. I could go on.
“Rex. I’ve had it with your shenanigans. I’m taking you to a Dog Obedience School. Today!”
I located an obedience school here in town and had booked a class with Rex for that afternoon.
“Hi, I’m Tom, and this is the problem—Rex”
The teacher, a rather crude, tough-looking woman, Penelope, looked like she could shake some common decency into my canine companion.
I explained the situation, and each time I rattled off a litany of Rex’s bad behavior, Rex wagged his tail, furthering my torment.
She suggested I walk Rex on his leash for her to observe our relationship.
Ninety seconds into our walk, she halted us and beckoned me over next to her.
“Hold it, hold it, hold it. I see what’s going on, Tom. Rex is misbehaving to demonstrate his feelings of being snubbed, verbally abused, and dismissed by you. He feels you harbor anger and resentment toward him. Rex is feeling played like a marionette by you—you play “give and take-away” with him, teasing him with feelings of security and then turning on him and stripping away the bonds between you. He is afraid to love you, Tom. He’s afraid to open up his heart again, only to have you stomp on it one more time.”
I stood there slack-jawed, disbelieving what I had just heard. The sound of a small black Dachshund tail flipping with glee was the only sound to be heard. “You got all that from watching me walk Rex for a minute or so? That’s the biggest bunch of malarkey I’ve ever heard. I brought him here for you to teach him to behave, not psychoanalyze me. HE’S got the problems, NOT ME!!!”
She put her arm around my shoulder and led me a few steps away from Rex, to speak in private. “Mr. Burns, I’ve been in this business for thirty-seven years. Trust me. It’s you, not Rex.”
“This is ridiculous. Bye!”
I picked up my misbehaving dog and stormed out her doors. I was furious. Me. Thinks it’s me!! What kind of ninny is that woman? With a stupid name like Penelope and a big bubble rear end!
I tossed Rex in the truck, rammed it into first gear and laid a patch of rubber the length of a football field and I tore across the parking lot.
I peeled out into the street, mumbling under my breath as my tormentor slapped his tail back and forth on the front seat.
Oh, great. I looked in my mirror and saw flashing blue cop-car lights, and laid into Rex for yet getting me into more trouble. I pulled over.
Actually, luck was on my side today. The officer getting out was a friend, Carl. I rolled down my window and called back to him, “Hey, Carl. Long time no see!”
“You’re driving like a madman Tom . . . oh, hi, Rexie. You were doing 75 in a 40 zone.”
“Carl, you won’t believe what happened.” I told him the entire story including my visit to see some big toad who fancies herself a dog trainer. “Penelope, Carl. Butt cheeks the size of Volvos. Face that would stop a clock . . .”
Carl was getting something out of his pocket. A business card. A dog obedience business card.
My bowels turned to ice water as I looked at the card and he said, “My wife.”
“Hamana hamana hamana, but, but, but . . .”
“My wife, Penelope . . .”
“But but but . . .”
“Seventy-five in a forty zone, eh?”
His ticket pad was almost jammed in my face as he started writing. “License and insurance, sir?”
“Sir? Sir? It’s just me, Carl. What gives?” I started to get out of the truck.
“Please stay inside the vehicle, sir. Hands on the steering wheel at ten and two.”
“But but but, Carl . . .”
“I am Officer Neufeld, Mr. Burns. Any funny business and you’ll be taking a ride downtown in the back of the squad car . . .”
I behaved myself. “What’s this ticket gonna cost me?”
“As big as your bar bill, I imagine.”
“Oh dear Lord in Heaven. That’s like half the national debt of Belgium. May I let Rex out? I think he has to piddle.”
“Sure.”
Carl finished the ticketing process and I let Rex back in the truck. Rex jumped up and licked my face, and in doing so, I turned my head to the left and looked in the outside mirror. Officer Carl Neufeld was walking back to his patrol car with a soggy cuff on his pants leg. Rex had hosed him in retaliation for me.
“WAY TO GO, REXIE!! GIMME FIVE!”
Man’s best friend. We stopped by and got a Costco pizza to celebrate.
* * *
Tom and / or Rex can be reached at burns100@earthlink.net.
