Ils m’ont mise dans un chenil.
eel maw meez dah zuh shuh-NEE. Click below to hear this.*
They put me in a kennel.
Guest post by Isabella the Dog.
Can you imagine the indignity? They go off for a two-week lark, talking happily about visiting “family”, and they put me in a kennel. What do they think I am? Aren’t I family? They should put their money where their mouth is.
Never mind that I actually kind of like the place. I’m really good at putting the guilt in their hearts, but I admit that this time I sort of forgot myself and ran right in. That Kathy is a pretty good human, and so are her people.
Anyway, even though I had other dogs to schmooze with, I had plenty of time to think. I heard the people at the kennel talking about something they call “resolutions”, which seem to have something to do with things that are going to happen some other time. As a dog, that’s a concept that’s pretty hard for me to wrap my head around.
I think it has to do with being the best dog I can be. So here’s what I do best:
• I come right away when they say “treat”.
• I let them know the moment I see the mailman come into sight. That goes for anyone else on the street, too.
• I stay out of the way of those small humans they bring into the house sometimes. They seem a little dangerous, and besides, my people seem to lavish a good deal of attention on them. Maybe I’m a little jealous.
• I stay in the room with my big humans when they seem sad or sick. I think they like the company, but I give them their space too.
• I sit around looking pretty. They seem to like that, so I take pride in my appearance.
There’s one thing I can’t get the hang of at all. The female in the house (she thinks she’s the alpha, but that’s really me!) sometimes talks funny, with words I don’t understand at all. She calls it “French”. Could one of you drop me a line and explain that, please?
Thanks, and Happy New Year!
*Some mobile phones, such as Blackberries, won’t display the audio player. If no player appears, here’s an alternative link to the audio file: