July 12, 2015

White Dog gave her sister a stern look, stood on the arm of our chair, and nimbly hopped off into the blizzard of whte that surrounded us. Bella bucked and kicked and squirmed herself upright from where she had crashed behind me and peeked around my shoulder, a bit confused.

It was treat time gone worthy of film footage on one of those "Funniest" TV shows.

As is typical at treat time, the White Dog Army arrays itself around me. They are pretty well mannered and all know they must not push or shove, treats are delivered by name. Steve usually handles Ferguson's treat as he is still too shy to join the pack in close range; Storm also gets her treat on the side, she is so tiny, and then takes it off to another room. The rest line up and sit.

Bella usually is at the end of the line, closest to her lair under the chair. She does, and has, since the day she arrived, a little sitting begging dance in place to make sure I know she is ready and wants a treat.

Of late, she has decided that I do not understand her readiness or that she is somehow going to be overlooked. She has modified her dance to now include launching herself at me and springing off of my chest. "Manners, please" or "You are not sitting" reminds her that she must follow the protocol.

Today, as I was midway through the line, My Tiny Dancer crossed her patience limit. She wildly sat on her hind legs, flailing her paws, barking her demands and when that got no immediate response, Bella tightened those tiny muscular legs...and flew toward me.

Unfortunately for her, I was focused on keeping Nilla's snooter away as I leaned down (stretching to reach him in the back row) to give Sachi his jerky.

Bella's leap took her past my lowered upper body and crashed her into the cushions on the back of the chair. My Bella took a few seconds in an awkward heap to figure out what had happened. She was embarrassed by her antics and was given no latitude by the White Dog Army who let her know just how hysterically funny she was.

I quietly reached her strip of duck around to her and shifted my hip so she could lie down behind me. Then I gave White Dog, now on the floor, her treat.

I scooped Little Miss B from behind me. "How did you know that I wanted to brush you?" I asked as I kissed her ear and whispered, "Go with me." She wagged her tail understanding that I was going to help her save face. I reached for the brush and after five minutes of grooming, Bella jumped down, dignity restored.

1 comment:

Random Felines said...

those unexpected crash landings are the worst :)