Red Hurts

Paris (my Scottie, who's probably about twelve years old now) and I are locked in an eternal struggle, from now until the end of eternity. The way the game works is he, in his never-ending quest to unseat Achilles (my Westie, who's about thirteen) as the house's official Alpha dog, finds a new and secret place to "mark." Eventually, I tumble to the location, because of the rousing smell of vinegar. Currently, I simply take one of those airline "kennels" and lock Paris inside it, about three inches from the pee-stained rug, for a sufficient number of hours for me to calm down. I like seeing Paris thus locked up, because I feel there's some sort of justice in it, his sharing the pee smell at close quarters like that, and it keeps me from spanking him. Why should he trick me into being a furious, sadistic, vicious beast, when I can calmly torture him? Presently, we're in a "hold-and-glide" phase of the relationship, with the empty kennel still next to his latest spot, treated with the proper "odor eliminator" chemicals, and him and me waiting for a fresh opportunity.


Trends and Everyday Events in

the Early Twenty-First Century

|

Richard Ames Hart

Sunday 21 September 2003