Yes, I am a Pirate

“Dogs are our energetic mirrors.  They reflect what we are on the inside.  And since my life is calm and drama-free now, my dogs never give me any material.”  I actually said that to my sister last week.

On Wednesday, those words turned right around and bit me hard.

Pancho, who I dressed as a peg-legged pirate for Halloween last year, has tried to curb his piracy in the past few months.  He was recently certified as a therapy dog, which means we visit nursing homes.  So far, we’ve been to three without him crashing the meal carts parked in the hallways.  But he still has his moments, so this year I promised him that if he was good, I would let him Trick or Treat in the trashcan for Halloween.

Halloween chocolate was never an option for Pancho.  One bite, and my house turns into a scene from the Exorcist.   Laverne and Shirley, on the other hand, are most likely evolved from rats.  I’ve seen them feast from a litter box and follow it with a side of paper towels and some freshly-caught frogs’ legs, yet they never get sick.

Wednesday morning, I woke up with a cough and a fever, symptoms of the Bubonic Plague that I certainly caught from my pet rats.  I spent the day in bed, barely pulling myself together in time for the Invisible Fence guy to show up.  (The fence quit working last week, and Laverne’s been out of the yard more than in it ever since.)

I’m not quite sure why, but the man who came to repair my Invisible Fence left the gate to the backup wooden fence open.  The dachshunds, of course, escaped.

Barefoot, coughing, and with hair that looked like a bad Halloween wig, I chased Shirley down and then watched as Laverne tried to get back into our yard from the street.  The problem was that the Invisible Fence was repaired, so every attempt delivered a painful jolt.  She sounded like she was repeatedly being stepped on.

The Invisible Fence guy, of course, was oblivious to all of it.

That evening, desperate to go to bed rather than pass out Halloween candy, I printed out a quarantine sign I found on the internet.  I pasted the words “Take one and RUN” underneath it and taped it to the front door over the big basket of Halloween candy, hoping no one would ring my doorbell.

It worked, for the most part.  A couple minutes later, my son let Pancho out the back door.  About the time it occurred to us that he was going to be our first trick or treater, I opened the front door  to see him grab a Kit Kat and run.

My dogs never give me any material?  Gimme a break.

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