Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Go With The Bigger Quieter Dogs

I don't hate animals.
Really I don't.
And I tell you this in hopes that it will make you sympathize with my poor, sleep deprived soul once I explain events I endured at our cabin last night.
All right, let me give you the picture. Our scene opens on a young girl and her family, pulling up a dusty dirty road. As they leave their car, enter a small, sickly dog from stage left. This dog, which is later identified as Keerby, begins to bark manically at the family, until it's owner, our main character's Aunt Jennifer, calms it. As the night wears on, the dog is soothes and seems to become a good cute adorable little thing. Scene closes.
New scene flashes up. View the back porch of a rustic cabin in the middle of the woods, lined with beds. Our main character lays motionless, but wide eyed, attempting to fall asleep. However, she notices something. It seems as though every move our main character makes which involves attempting to catch any form of zzzs this dog which previously barked at her seems to fidget, or bark, or proceed to breathe as if it shall cough up one of it's lungs at some random second. Meaning no matter how many times our main character attempts to snooze, it seems as though she is unable to.
The night passes slowly as the unbearable yipper seems to know no end to his noise. Around three am, hours after attempted snoozing to no avail, the main character's thoughts grow dark. A former animal lover with a dog of her own, our main character is deeply disturbed by these thoughts, however also intrigued in an odd sort of way, much like when characters in movies or crime shows have odd random things that turn them on in weird ways they can't explain. After all, the main character thinks, if she were to drop kick said tiny doggy down the road, how much distance would she get? Would her legs be strong enough to rocket the noisy animal to at least a fifty to sixty foot marker? And also, if she were to wing said dog with all her might into the lake from the cabin porch, could she in fact rocket it to the other side?
This sort of thinking is the only thing that gets our character through the following four hours of yiping, snorting, and breathing up of dog organs, until around 7 o'clock pm and no sleep to speak of, but a noisy doze here and there, (and after a futile attempt to sleep on the deck) enter our main characters mother, who shuts said dog up and allows our main character to finally grasp the sleep she has been seeking. End scene.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, the main character is me. And with God as my witness, I vow that I shall never own anything smaller than a German shepard or golden under any circumstances for the rest of my life. God I'm tired...

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