“You are the worst.”

It’s 6:30 in the morning and I’m trying to work up the want-to to take the Jeep over to Landlady’s place for chicken chores. I’d really rather walk but it’s Monday morning, pre-monsoon, I have to go to town on the Monday Morning water run and it’s really muggy by our standards and right now I don’t stink but I surely will after a half-hour’s walk so no walkie for me. That means bouncing around in the noisy Jeep, and I’d rather just peacefully sit here, thanks…

Then Torso Boy comes whimpering into the main cabin, wanting something, and I ask him, “You want to go for a ride?” And of course all he heard was “you want?” So he starts dancing around, “Yeah! Yeah! Best idea ever!” And I open the door and he runs to the bottom of the stairs and then stops and looks back as if to say “Why are we here?” I urge him to pee on a juniper if he needs to, and he decides, yeah, since we’re here we may as well have a squirt. And then I shoo him toward the Jeep.

I walk around to the driver’s side, open the door, look behind me and there’s no Laddie. I walk back around and he’s just standing there staring at me. Staring, perfectly still. Like he’s had a stroke or something. I call him: He does not move. I slap my knees and insist that he come to me: He twitches not a muscle. I yell at him to get his stunted, obstinate ass over here right this f’ing second: He stares fixedly at me as if wondering why I’m speaking Sumerian.

I roll my eyes to the heavens, silently imploring any inhabitants thereof to explain why I have been saddled with this squishy little millstone. “You want a cookie?”

He brightens instantly and dashes up the porch stairs, then politely waits for me to catch up and open the door.

About Joel

You shouldn't ask these questions of a paranoid recluse, you know.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to “You are the worst.”

  1. terrapod says:

    Yep, he has his owner well trained.
    Enjoy it, they don’t last all that long, sadly.

  2. Tennessee Budd says:

    Obviously a creature of habit. Unlike, say, grouchy old desert hermits.

To the stake with the heretic!