Pooch Perception

Recyclable Chlo

It was sort of a rough (ruff) day, self-esteem-wise for my little dachshund.  We walked into my friend, Geri's classroom, delighted to see her, only to have her insensitively regard Chlo and say, "Isn't she getting a little fat?"  I can hear the gasps of horror echoing about the cavernous corridors of the world wide web as you read this. I know.  Prior to this traumatic experience, Chlo and I were having a happy little day.  We took Sydney to work and shared a yummy portion of french fries doused in vinegar on the ride back to the school.  Following a detailed investigation of the school's perimeter, we made that barely-worth-mentioning (brief) visit to Geri. After I pointed out the significant difference between "winter weight" and the hurtfully generalistic and  misunderstood term "fat", I exited this toxic environment.  Near-sighted, Geri, of course failed to notice Chlo's luxuriously thick undercoat which may have contributed to her ridiculous misperception.  Not one to hold a grudge, Chlo rallied on.  We returned to my classroom for a little snack until my friend Cathy popped in for a visit.  We sat outside, enjoying the warm weather as Chlo explored the school yard.  Concerned for our safety, Chlo raced off to the tree-line to make sure that it was secure.  So intent was she on her duties, Chlo was unable to respond to my calls directing her to please return.  The sun glaring in her eyes made Cathy's facial expression appear a bit judgmental as I wrestled my sweet little dog from the underbrush and carried her back.  "Perhaps a little obedience training would help," Cathy said carefully.  I have to admit, I was a bit surprised by this comment.  "She's self-taught," I explained proudly.  The sun glare must have prevented Cathy from noticing that Chlo did not wiggle or squirm as I dug her out from beneath the bushes.  Misunderstood and unappreciated, Chlo and I returned to my classroom.  I didn't realize the depths of Chlo's depression until I discovered her a half hour later, curled into the recycle box, next to the trash.  I coaxed her out with a little yum-yum and before you knew it, we were on the mend.  Soon, my sweet little dachshund was curled up happily in my lap.  I don't know what got into Geri and Cathy today.  They just don't see Chlo the way I do.