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Monday, January 06 2014

The key to a good horror flick is suspense. When armed with popcorn and a supersize coke, suspense isn't a bad thing. When you're naked in the shower, suspense is highly overrated.

An arctic cold front is rolling across the country, and we're trying to juggle a farm and seven dogs. We normally divide our pack of seven dogs into sub-packs: the indoor dogs and the outdoor dogs. Indoor dogs have social skills. Outdoor dogs tend to either mark the furniture, or are primitive, dog-aggressive psychopaths.

Guess who lives outside?

Trace the Troll!

But on this particular morning, in preparation for nasty weather and lots of time spent in dog crates, I had shuffled the indoor dogs outside and vice versa. Thus I found myself, once again, taking a shower with Norman Bates. Since the first time was such an adventure (Read: Behind The Shower Curtain   ), I removed all dog toys from the bathroom before stepping in the tub.

But the problem with clever dogs is that Petsmart doesn't have to carry it for an object to become a dog toy.

And so it was that I took a quick scan of the bathroom before stepping in the shower, and the suspense began:

 Pull curtain back to peek at Norman Bates. He is staring at me with yellow wolf eyes. Close curtain and pick up soap. Begin to mull over his expression. What was he thinking? Did I puppy-proof the bathroom properly? Mentally run through a diagram of the bathroom in my head. What can he turn into a toy?

Peek through curtain again. His yellow wolf eyes are still staring at me. This time he's smirking. Close curtain. I'm certain the little creep was smirking at me. What's he up to? Peek through curtain again. He is lying on the bathrug. He raises a Spock eyebrow, daring me to question his innocence. I close the curtain. My cell phone by the sink rings. Because I'm soaking wet, I stay where I am and continue washing my toes. And that's when the shower curtain is ripped open.

A cold blast of air rushes into the tub. His dancing eyes smile, "Your phone's ringing!"

He stays there, with the shower curtain draped over his head, staring at me intently, letting in the cold air. I assure him I will return the call later. He backs out. The phone continues to ring. Norman Bates slashes the curtain open again.

"Your phone is ringing!  Want me to get it?!"

I see the direction his mind is working and assure him that, "No, I'll return the call."

He disappears again. The phone stops ringing. I go back to my soap, but the ominous music soundtrack in my head begins. Something is going on. I peek out the curtain. He is staring at me. Staring at me. Staring. Staring. Staring. Playing his Jedi mind games. Staring at the phone. Staring at me. I refuse to be trained by a dog. After all, I'm the trainer here.

 I tell myself that I won't be long and go back to my shower. Still, the music dances in my head like his dancing eyes. I reassure myself that there is nothing in the bathroom he can hurt, but the mental picture of an expensive iPhone being thrown into the shower pops in my head.

He wouldn't.

I peek through the curtain again. He would. His front feet are already on the toilet and he's staring at the phone like the RCA puppy listening to his master's voice in a phonograph. And that's when it rings again. He grins at me from the toilet seat.


"YOUR PHONE IS RINGING AGAIN! Must be important! I think it's Dad! That's his ring tone! Want me to bring it to you? Huh? Huh?!"


The music in my head has reached a climax. The chance that an iPhone will come flipping into the shower like a hockey puck is about to become a reality. I bounce out of the tub with a bark and answer it. It's my husband. I'm wet, so I put him on speaker phone. The glazed yellow eyes at my dripping feet point out my error.

"Dad? Dad? Dad's in the box?"

Hmmm.... yes, to a Border Collie, Dad is indeed in the box. And that is a bad thing. I hop back in the shower. I peek around the curtain. He continues to stare at the phone like a puzzle.

How is it he has never noticed cell phones before? Judging from his expression, Kong is about to add an iPhone to their inventory. I doubt Otterboxes cover that. I'm sure AT&T Insurance wants to hear this excuse.

"Yes, my dog tried to get my husband out of the Otterbox. No, he's not a Labrador, he's a Border Collie.  Yes, you're right. It wouldn't be a bad idea to upgrade my insurance. Yes, they are smart dogs. Yes, I should probably check to see if he downloaded any new apps." 

 And sure enough, there is an app on my phone:

"Sheepdog Trials - Lite Edition"

And yes, I suck at it. Maybe I should let Trace the Troll play it instead.

Posted by: forensicfarmgirl AT 03:25 pm   |  Permalink   |  2 Comments  |  Email
Comments:
Laughing out loud so hard that I scared the cat! You have already lost, you know!
Posted by clairesmum on 01/07/2014 - 02:43 PM
Lifecase. They are for iPhones and are waterproof to several feet. I don't know if they are dog chew proof.
Posted by Eric on 01/08/2014 - 10:04 PM

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