Ginger is in my bed again. My nice clean sheets and fluffy pillows are strewn about as only Ginger can do. She doesn't listen to me and my calls to get down from the bed are ignored. She's never listened to me. If you read her story, 'Treat, Pray, Love' in Chicken Soup for the Soul: My Dog's Life you'll learn that her disobedience started at a very young age.
Why is she in my bed? She's hiding her bone. It's not a real bone dripping with delectable juicy red meat. Oh no. It's a bone just for dogs that came out of a bag that I bought at Walmart. She insists on hiding it amongst the pillows, but the real entertainment is messing them up first.
I wondered why dogs insist on burying their bones so I looked it up on the Internet. It's a survival instinct that goes back to the days when they killed other animals for food. The dog had to eat quick before other hungry predators arrived to steal it away. They'd bury it and come back later to retrieve it. Ginger gets regular meals but I guess it's the same thing when she drinks out of the puddles in the street. She loves to act like I'm neglecting her by not giving her any water when in actuality she has two doggie water bowls and three toilets which in her mind are also water bowls.
I've seen her scratch at an area rug in an attempt to hide a bone under it. But the bed? Doesn't she know we sleep there? Hide it in the kitchen, Ginger. It'll be ready and waiting for you at dinnertime. But there are no pillows to mess up in there so it wouldn't be nearly as much fun, would it?
Tonight when I get into bed and scream when I lie down on the half chewed bone, she'll decide to finish it. It's much more fun that way.
No comments:
Post a Comment