Monday, August 21, 2006

Kash checks in

This week’s prompt for Sunday Scribblings is “the inner life of pets”. Sorry this post is a bit late but I had to wait for HIM to fall asleep or go to work, or whatever else it is you humans do. He is in the other room watching the Redsox/Yankees game. If history is any indication his attention should be diverted for a while at least. If history is any indication, he will be too busy pacing back and forth to notice what I am doing. I will try to get this in while he is distracted. My name is Kash and I am filling in for Briliantdonkey on this week’s Sunday scribblings prompt. I am an 8 year old Norwegian Elkhound and I live in Florida with BD. Check that, BD lives in Florida with me that should say. Oh I let him think he is in charge but make no mistake I run this place not him.

Rut roh,,,, screaming from the other room doesn’t make me think things are going too well right this moment. What does “son of a B**ch” mean anyways?

These humans, well YOU humans I have to say are so very odd. For instance, He likes to think that HE is in charge but let me tell you otherwise. Let us see. One of us lies around the house all day and the other goes to work to pay the bills for the house in which the other lays around in all day. Who is in charge? One of us, poops in the yard or in the park and the other walks around behind cleaning up the mess. Like that comic genius Seinfeld says, if the aliens are looking down on us right now and they see this happening who do you think THEY will consider to be in charge hmmmm??? Who is in charge? ONE of us does all the dishes everyday, and the other listens to him ask ‘why don’t you do some dishes while I am gone?” Make no mistake, he is right. I COULD do the dishes if I chose to. Hogwash you say? Dogs can’t do dishes you say? Well, I bet you didn’t think dogs could type either, but here I am doing so. Besides, why would I want to let him know I can do that? Next thing you know I would end up typing letters every day and get a serious case of dishpan paws. Thanks, but no thanks I will pass.

Cheering from the other room made me click the remote over from animal planet to see the sox apparently took the lead. Good, good for him. Now like I was saying I could cook dinner as well once in a while but I am smarter than that. Instead, I just snuck into his computer and doubled all the recipes. He is a pretty darn good cook I must admit but he isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer you know.

It is so funny, he may NEVER figure out why every time he cooks something he ends up with way too much for just one person. That is where I come in. I look at him and watch as he scratches his head with that confused look on his face. That look is priceless I tell you. I watch patiently as he gets ready to put the leftovers into the refrigerator. That is when, I just “accidentally HAPPEN” to stroll into the kitchen right on time. I wag my tail,look pretty, and break out my secret weapon, puppy dog eyes. Next thing you know, BLAM, I am eating chicken parmigan, meatloaf, pot roast, or lasagna. What’s that? That is mean you say? Nah, not mean, YOU try eating kibble everyday of the week and see how quickly YOU take steps to make sure you get lots of good leftovers.

Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah I am in charge around here not him. Think about it. He scratches my belly to the point of making my leg do that weird ‘kick kick kick’ thing. What is THAT all about anyways? Does that sound to you like someone who is in charge or not? I rest my case your honor. Oh shit, sounds like the game is over and it didn’t go well. I better go hide this computer in case he is in the mood to break something. I better hide the remote lest he accidentally throw it through the television screen like that time back in '86. Kind of ironic that he did so after an error, but at least he can never again have a fit about any kind of throwing error. Who the hell are these ball players anyways? And why do so many of them have the same middle name?

Bucky "bleeping" Dent

Bill "bleeping" Buckner

Brett" bleeping" boone....

wierd I say, but hey I am just a dog. Anyways, catching me doing this won’t improve his mood so let me run! For more Sunday Scribblings posts please click here.



alyndabear said...

"Just a dog?" Is there ever *just* a dog? They are so much more than that !! ;)

Check that, BD lives in Florida with me.

^^ Had me giggling. That's definitely the way of it. I'd love to see pics!

-Aly =D

Roadchick said...

Pot roast? Chicken parmesean? Meatloaf? Lasagna?

Um, Kash? Can the 'chick come and stay at YOUR house? We'll just triple the recipes. . .

jason evans said...

He scratches my belly to the point of making my leg do that weird ‘kick kick kick’ thing. What is THAT all about anyways?

There must be some evolutionary purpose for that phenomenon. What it is, though, I have absolutely no idea.

Writing Blind said...

I knew dogs could do the dishes if they wanted to. I have to go have a talk with these shiftless fleabags lying around my house, excuse me.

normiekins said...

great post!!!!...beautiful dog....he's going to get carpal paw tunnel if he keeps guest appearing ! total unconditional love!

TwilightSpider said...

Switching from Animal Planet to check up on the Red Sox game - now that's loyalty. Man's best friend indeed.

leonie said...

brilliant post kash. i think even my cat (who isn't really fond of dogs) would come live with you, just for the dinners. cheers for the laughs.

Autrice DelDrago said...

^5 an excellent post!!!

Dogs don't really understand the bleeping Olympics, either.

christine said...

Oh Kash, who knew you were a brilliant writer as well? You lovely lady dog you? Do you know you make more sense than he does? Much much more! :) Hope to hear more from you!

commongal said...

Aw man, this was a hard week for any dog or person to watch the Red Sox. I love the part about not wanting to eat kibble every day. My two cats do much the same thing, and they keep at it until they get ice cream, too.