Friday, March 26, 2010

Somewhere, Beyond the Steam

It’s great when our humans have a good laugh … until you realize they are laughing at you. You know what I mean, right? The human starts to chuckle, then laugh, then collapses in full-blown hysterics complete with reddened faces, pointing fingers and watering eyes. The most recent example came about after something from the internet (author unknown) was reprinted in a newspaper column. Supposedly, it was “found posted very low on a refrigerator door” addressed to “Dear Dogs and Cats,” and contained several admonishments about perfectly acceptable pet behavior. The one that sent my human into uncontrollable laughter (directed at me!!) was this:

“For the last time, there is no secret exit from the bathroom! If, by some miracle, I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge in an attempt to open the door. I must exit through the same door I entered. Also, I have been using the bathroom for years – canine/feline attendance is not required.”

Well, that is SO WRONG! First of all, attendance is required no matter what you are doing. I am a German shepherd. “To protect and serve” is written into my genetic code. I can’t help myself. Remember when I was 3 months old and attacked the vacuum cleaner? You see a handy household gadget, but I see a noisy monster that gobbles up everything in its path and just might turn on YOU someday! Did you ever think of that?

Then there’s the postal carrier, the most suspicious person ever born. Let’s examine the facts: they come to the door but never knock, deposit items in the box with a loud thump, then run away. They are clearly up to no good. Besides, I never get any mail unless you count the cheerful postcards from the vet reminding me that I need shots. Thanks a lot, buddy.

So, amidst all sorts of dubious goings on, it’s a pet’s job to keep an eye on their humans, which brings me back to the mysterious bathroom. I’m convinced there is a secret exit, I know where it is, and I’m gonna let you in on this discovery. The secret exit is somewhere inside the stall shower! Think about it -- a room within a room, designed for subterfuge, where people disappear for a long time. There’s frosted glass and clouds of steam to obstruct your vision, pounding water to impede your hearing, and soap to confuse your sense of smell. People can sneak out and sneak back in without you knowing a thing about it. I’m not sure where they go, but I bet it’s someplace good like a land of trees, squeaky toys and butcher shops for dogs, or that commercial where the cat jumps through a can of food into a magical world that looks like a weird kitty LSD trip.

The one thing I haven’t quite figured out is how to open the secret exit, but I’m working on it. I’ve slipped into the bathroom a few times and curled up in front of the shower door to block that way out. So far, that brilliant idea resulted in stern commands to “MOVE IT!!!!" from my annoyed, dripping human, and I complied because of the "serve" part wired into my DNA. Now she keeps the bathroom door firmly shut. Yeah, right -- she doesn’t know enough to take a hard look at that creepy person with the mail but she’s all over me! Sooner or later, though, I’ll get back in there, pass a towel over the top, block the door and stay put. She’ll have to use the hidden exit to escape and the secret will finally be revealed!

I’ll keep you posted.

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