28 January 2013

Dog Talk

So, the boy is teething again. He's cutting his molars and he's not happy about it. For that matter, neither is anyone else.

The night before last (I was to tired to write yesterday), he kept us awake pretty much the whole night. After he finally gave up and fell into exhausted and fitful slumber, I laid in bed trying to go back to sleep, silently envying my wife, who could easily sleep through a tornado. When I realized that I was contemplating rolling her out of bed, just so I wouldn't be the only one awake, I figured I might oughta get myself downstairs before I got myself in trouble.

I had brewed up a cup of coffee and was diligently working on my to do list for the day - okay, I was playing a video game, but hey, it was 3 o'clock in the freaking morning - when I head a familiar sound on the stairs. It sounds kind of like a bunch of bowling balls being rolled down the stairs all at once. In reality, it's the sound my beloved Furball makes when he's in a hurry to get downstairs.

I was rather surprised to hear him coming down, since he normally won't move until my wife does, and he and I both knew she wasn't going to move for hours yet. Well, I watched him round the corner fast and I moved to get him some fresh water and to open the door to let him out.

Now, if you know me, then you know I speak dog fluently. I'm often called upon as a translator, and Furball and I enjoy rousing conversations, mostly focusing on politics, relationships and dog treats.

This morning, however, he was a bit grumpy. He trotted past me saying, "Don't worry about water, Dad. I just came down to pee." As I opened the door, he saw that it had rained and the ground was wet. He hesitated, as he remembered with great trepidation, his past experience with wet ground. You see, Sweetheart used to freak out about muddy paws, so whenever he went out when it was wet, she would meet him at the door with a towel and scrub his feet dry. Furball doesn't like this. I've seen that dog hold it for 18 hours before, rather than go out in the rain. Six years since she's done it, but he's still leery of rain.

This time, however, he looked up at me and said, "Aw, what the heck. She's not gonna be conscious for hours yet, thanks to that boy you two had to have." So out he goes to pee. As he came back in, he looked at me with the drooping, reddened, bleary eyes of exhaustion that can only be seen on a cocker spaniel who's been deprived of his necessary 20 hours of daily sleep and said, "I'm wiped out, Dad. I'm going back to bed."

He started to wearily amble back the way he had come, then stopped and turn his head back to me, cocked his ears, and asked in a - slightly - humorous tone, "Dad, can I just eat him so we can all get a good night sleep?"

Hmm, sometimes it's worrisome having a talking dog.