Yesterday...my rottweiler was nervous and jittery. While the dachshund threw herself into my arms with her usual wild abandon, Juno's ears were laid back, her back was concaved, and she was pacing...her front paws jumping simultaneously each time she turned. Think circus pony.
My eyes flitted about the dining room as I moved cautiously through the house, pausing in the kitchen to quietly remove the butcher knife from its block. Juno urged me on, hugging my leg and whining while Chloe just looked confused. The bathroom door was ajar and I noted with detached amusement that I was experiencing the POV perspective that cinematic audiences enjoy in horror films as I watched my outstretched arm reach forward, my hand moving the door slowly open. Naturally, it creaked.
Juno lunged forward and I barely repressed a scream. We had reached the scene of her distress. My guard dog...my rottweiler...was in a semi-paralytic, hysterical state because her R2D2 dog toy had fallen into her food bowl. I can't reach my food, she seemed to be saying, her dark eyes pleading, R2D2 is holding my kibble captive."
"Really?" I asked her, letting out a sigh of relief that an intruder was not going to inevitably wrestle my butcher's knife from my inept hands and stab me to death for not being smart enough to wait outside until Brad got home. "Are you really telling me that you're not smart enough to remove a dog toy from your own food bowl?" There are dolphins that use sponges to stir up the sand to uncover their prey. Orangutans that use sticks to dig out ant hills. Don't even get me started on otters! Juno was back to doing her circus pony trick. "Can I at least put my knife down first," I asked.
As soon as I removed the robot, the rototiller dove into her still-full bowl. "Poor, baby," I soothed, now realizing that that darn droid had caused Juno a full day of stress. Chlo, to her credit, maintained her air of disgust. I watched the dachshund grab R2D2 and head to the living room.
and I wondered...
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