BarkingProse

Next month I’m going to see my brother Zag. I always have a good time with Zag. Here’s our picture when we played the mouth game. It’s a fun game but you have to be a little careful or somebody might get hurt.

I only play the mouth game with Zag and Tess. Nobody else knows how to play. It sounds really scary but it’s not. It makes Jack nervous even though he’s deaf, so we go to the garage to play.

We also play tug. Mom took this really cool picture that makes us look like space aliens with glow in the dark eyes. Neat, huh?

My little brother could live with us except he hates laundry and my mom does a lot of laundry. We’d have to put Zag in the garage when laundry gets folded. We already have to put Tess outside when the vacuum is on. She’s afraid of the mop too.

This is a goofy bark. I’m feeling pretty laid back. Just sort of letting thoughts float through my mind. Not much else to say. Think I’ll go swipe a sock. See ya.

Sit. Stay. Down. Come. Wait. No. Off. Leave it. Whose idea is that? Here I am looking at my ball. It’s my favorite thing in the world, but I’ve been told to “leave it.” Why? Because my mom thinks it’s good practice.

Yeah, she thinks it could come in handy sometime. Once my mom told me to leave it when she dropped a grape on the floor. Grapes are poison to dogs and she didn’t want me to eat it. OK. I get that. But when she drops a nice chunk of meat, by what logic should I not grab it and swallow it whole?

Get this. She tells me to stay and then goes to another room. She whistles and I have to go find her. It’s a mindless game but it makes her happy and I get a treat each time. Seems like I always have to play by her rules. Her language. Her words. Her sense of what’s appropriate and what’s not.

Who’s to say it’s impolite to smell the neighbor’s crotch? Who’s to say I shouldn’t jump on the couch when some guest is sitting there? Why can’t we play ball in the middle of dinner? Why shouldn’t I counter surf? Why can’t I get on that special chair? What’s wrong with bringing my rotten bone in the house? So what if I have poop stuck to my butt feathers? We’re really talking about cultural differences.

But then she yells “Treats!” Jack can’t hear her but Tess and I go running and Jack follows. We sit politely in a circle. I always get mine first but I have to wait for permission to take it. Tess has to whirl around in a circle and Jack extends his paw. She’s so happy that we have manners. Me and Tess don’t have the heart to tell her it’s not about manners. It’s about the treats. Oh well. Gotta run.

Did you ever notice how Jack always looks so sad? He has a far away look in his eyes like he’s trying to remember something. Or maybe he’s trying to forget something. He doesn’t talk much unless he can’t find our mom. Then he starts hollering for her. I used to laugh at him but now I know it really freaks him out not to know where she is.

Tess can’t remember much about her past, but she’s not sad about it. She gets uptight in the car. It’s like she’s gonna have a fit if she can’t sit in the front seat. Jack and me just hang together in the back. I don’t care who sits where as long as we all get to go.

So yesterday this great big dog named Sherman came to visit. He weighs more than me and Jack together. Good thing he’s a nice guy. Jack started barking and acting weird. All of a sudden I understood something about Jack. He doesn’t know how to make new friends. He doesn’t know you just sniff and pee and mind your own business for a few minutes until everybody settles down. Poor Jack. Maybe nobody ever showed him how to make friends.

I talked to Tess and we decided we’re gonna try harder to make Jack feel like he’s part of the family. Maybe he’ll open up about why he looks so sad. Or maybe just being in a happy place will make him feel better. Anyway, Jack is family and we’re here for him. Forever. Gotta run!