Thursday, August 03, 2006

Backyard Alone, By Doogie

I was asked to do a guest post here. The family dog, that's me. I said okay, so long as they included a head and shoulders portrait shot, the type of earthy black-and-white pic that classy magazines like Playboy use to showcase their authors. So that's me here, Doogie. Just imagine me wearing an ascot and smoking a pipe.

The tale I tell is anything but fiction, however. It is fact. All told in frighteningly horrid detail. Before I start, remember, I'm a small pooch. A house dog--that's H-O-U-S-E. Anytime I go outside, I'm at the bottom of the food chain. That Jack London book Call of the Wild is nightmare fiction to me. Just give me my spot on the bed, some treats and an occasional hug.

A couple weeks ago, my family decided to try a new out-of-town restaurant. They included the in-laws on this caravan, so I was taken to my cousin's house. My cousin is Peanut, a pekapoo, half Pekinese and half poodle. Short guy but built like a tank. Very exuberant. Think Chris Farley to my David Spade.

Anyway, the idea was for the two of us to keep eachother company as we both suffer separation anxiety when our masters are away. No problem. I love Peanut's backyard, a jungle of interesting sights and smells among all the trees and bushes.

So I'm out in the fenced-in backyard. Peanut's inside. After awhile, I'm bored. Ready to come inside, I scratch at the back door. No response. I scratch again, harder. Again, no response. After a few minutes of scratching I realize, I'm in the yard alone.

They forgot about me and left? Yikes! I'm 13-years-old. It's like leaving your 100-year-old grandpa at the park with just a bowl of tepid water for refreshment. A half hour passed. Then an hour. Then two! Peanut was probably inside chilling out with a chew toy and a bowl of Pedigree Dog Food.

I climbed to the top of the picnic table and stood on top. Standing on top of a table where my family usually prepares or serves food has always been a sure way to bring down the wrath of man upon me. Not this time. Nobody came to scold or swat me down.

Meanwhile, I'm out here in the wilds. After three hours had passed, I began to prepare for the worst. There's wildlife in those trees. Creatures of the night. I smell 'em. Even the cat next door is looking at me, licking his chops. At dusk, over the fence he comes I'll bet.

Daylight is waning. I hear a rustle now and then in the trees above. And it's not the wind. Could it be a hungry raccoon? Or maybe even a bear--oh, there are bears in Washtenaw County. I'm still atop the picnic table. This is where I would make my stand come nightfall.

Then I heard a car door slam. And voices. A minute later my brother Scott came around back, with a look of surprise upon seeing me. He gathered me up and took me back around front, where he showed me to Big Dave, wife Wendy and my other brother Greg, all just as surprised as Scott to see me.

"He's shivering," I heard Wendy say.

She's just lucky I can't report her to PETA.


Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

I don't know about that, Doggie. I hear PETA reads this blog.

12:15 PM  
Blogger Me said...

Poor, poor Doogie!! Bad master, bad, bad master! I can't believe Dave had you guest post today he should have known you would tell us about his mistreatment of you! How dare them forget about you. Well to give them the benefit of the doubt it could have been Peanut who shut the door and locked it on you. There might have been some good treats in there he didn't want to share. We'll forgive them. This time.

1:32 PM  
Blogger Trucker Bob said...

I had to shield L'il Bear's eyes while reading this. Such cruelty!

Hang in Doogie doggy, help is on the way. ;-)

1:34 PM  
Blogger Tim said...

Are you sure that neighbor's cat isn't related to one of our late cat's, Picasso? She would lick her chops at a great dane passing by. Be sure to make butter out of Peanut, or lock HIM out next time . . .

3:39 PM  
Blogger Peter said...

A sad tale Doogie, but one with a happy ending.

5:47 PM  
Blogger Fred said...

Those PETA folks can be downright nasty. You can use that threat for a long time to come.

6:09 PM  
Anonymous kristy said...

Poor Doogie! You must have been terrified. Good for you for staying put--you must have been a boy scout in your younger days. That training always comes in handy at some point.

10:16 PM  
Anonymous cassie-b said...

What a difficult evening for you. I'm glad you were rescued before anything even worse happened.

I hope they gave you a special snack.

nice to meet you

8:17 AM  
Blogger pissed off patricia said...

Awww, bless your little heart. Hopefully this will never happen again. It's too spooky to be outside all alone when you're a little fellow.

I used to have a peekapoo. She was small but seemed to see herself as a boxer or a shepard. I had her for 16 years. Her name was Cee Cee. She was wonderful.

11:19 AM  
Anonymous enforcer said...

at your age doog, it's a wonder you know whether your on a couch or a picnic table

12:07 PM  
Blogger Deb said...

Poor Doggie! I could just see you standing alone, wondering what every sound was.

You told a great story though. ;)

12:24 PM  
Blogger Kacey said...

Oh Doogie, you must have been really upset out there in that big, bad backyard! However, you write as well as your Dad with a bit of an Erma Bombeck twist. Next time your Dad and Mom are out on the town, have them drop you off at my place where I-75 crosses I-80/90 (you know, on the way to Ohio State?) and if you get stuck outside you can chomp a leg off the deer that wander about on the 5th fairway outside my deck. Shame Dad!

4:01 PM  
Blogger poopie said...

Shame shame SHAME! Put in a call to a doggie therapist...I see doggie PTSD coming on :)

4:46 PM  
Anonymous Terri said...

Fantastic writing! I'm still chuckling!
OH, POOR Doogie! Now...which scatterbrain took off and forgot the dog was in the yard? Never mind...don't answer that.
Is that really your dog in the photo, Dave? JUST adorable! And he's're right. Darn lucky he's not reporting you for elder abuse.
The analogy to the grandfather was

1:59 PM  
Anonymous Maria said...

Poor Baby! My Sammi and Annie are just like that, too. However, after I told them the story they said they would be glad to give Doogie PETA's as well as the SPCA's phone numbers.

Honest Dave, you had me nearly rolling on the floor with laughter while reading this story by Doogie.

1:09 PM  
Blogger bornfool said...

Poor Doogie. Glad you're ok.

6:56 PM  
Anonymous schnoodlepooh said...

Ohhhh, poor poor Doogie. You want me to call the doggy cops for you? Those horrible thoughtless humans. They are more concerned with their dinner than what could be happening to the likes of poor little Doogie. You're a very brave little doggy. You deserve lots and lots of extra love and treats for the ordeal that you've been through. You can call on Baxter and Bailey to protect you at any time.

5:16 PM  
Blogger Lucy Stern said...

Doggie, I can see you now with your violin in hand, playing your song. Sorry but I think big Dave knew you were out in the wild back yard all along. I don't think I would speak to him ever again.

6:08 PM  
Blogger curious servant said...

You don't suppose Lucy is right, do you? Could this have been an attempt to "toughen you up" a bit?

Horrors. Where's the Animal Cops crew when you need them?

7:45 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


12:51 AM  

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