I’m going to discuss something that bothers me to no end. His name is Grandmaster Henson, and he is my dog.
Let me ‘splain it like this. He has a little soft red toy that he loves to play with. It’s a cloth ball, and it says “Coca-Cola” on it. He will go anywhere for this ball. It is like pure cocaine to him, which is ironic considering Coca-Cola’s sordid history of ingredients. Maybe they just put their extra smack in their plush toys these days. Who’s to say?
Anyhow, he takes this toy and chews it, yes, but he does more than that. He likes to chew it near things. Things like my foot. Or my arm. Or my ear (if he dares). But that’s not the worst part. He most enjoys chewing it near any low-set shelf, such as our entertainment system, the bookshelf near my computer desk, or the little free-standing medicine cabinet in our bathroom upstairs. This matters for one reason. The ball fits under these shelves. Henson’s head does not. So when he pushes the ball around with his nose as any ball-loving dog is known to do, he inevitably pushes the darn thing under the shelf, and while stabbing at it with his nose in an attempt to bite it and pull it back out, pushes it far beyond the reach of his huge schnoz.
Then, the nearly inaudible whining begins.
Over a period of several minutes, even as much as an hour, the whining crescendos slowly. Henson must have a hit from that ball, and he needs it pronto. Just one more chew, then he’ll be fine. He’ll pay me back later, I know he’s good for it, etc. It’s really a test. I have to see how long I can stand it before I’m left with the choice of getting the ball or killing the dog. Then I get the ball and give it to him, and the cycle repeats. Chew, chew, chew… push under shelf… whine, whine, whine, get ball back…. chew, chew, chew. You see how it is. Have pity on me, kind reader!
Just one question… am I being an enabler?