Wednesday, April 6, 2011

You talkin' to me?

There's a yard we pass regularly with two dogs in it who are under the supervision of an invisible fence. There's the original mixed breed dog, yellow, (maybe) eighty-pound big barker and an additional well behaved, brown, pit bull. We call the barking dog Chief for no other reason than he seems to think he is one. Occasionally, if Chief is feeling extra brave he'll get to the boundary of the invisible fence and just say something along the lines of "fuck it" and burst on through, running the line of his own yard and smack talking us until we're out of sight. Stella used to respond to his outbursts but now she just passes by without so much as a nod. This of course, makes him crazy. The pit bull might stand up and watch but it never barks or appears agitated in any way.

So the other day we're walking by and Chief comes tearing across the yard at us as usual. He gets about halfway to us and Stella makes a beautiful little ninety degree hop to square off in his direction. He freezes. She then proceeds to pick up the newspaper in his very own driveway (I hadn't even noticed) and slinging it with her head by it's flimsy plastic wrapper murders it right in front of him.

About five seconds into this colorful display, she apparently feels my amusement and begins slamming it on the ground repeatedly until the plastic is shredded, now barely able to contain its herniated contents. She stops and stares at Chief who is not surprisingly, still frozen.

"Drop it," I whisper, and she does. Then she pees. At this point, I can no longer contain my laughter. We turn to walk away, with Stella leaping like a little gazelle (because that's what she does when she knows I love her) and we don't hear another peep out of grouchy old Chief.

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