Little Brown Dog

April 9, 2016

My faithful dog, Gunther, sprints to me when I call.

He comes, unless he’s digging up some kind of shit two houses away.  Then I called and this Palooka across the street yells a mocking “Haw haw!” when Gunther ignores me.

I play it cool, although I’m hot.  I call again:  “Gunther, come!  Bah!”  The last is supposed to mimic the sound an alpha dog would make.  I paid a guy $300 for that trick.  And a few other tricks too.  It doesn’t work, so I sit on the front step.

Gunther continues to goof off two houses away.  Then Becky and her four-year-old son Jack arrive in Becky’s mighty SUV.  As B. exits the car I ask her to call G.

The little brown fellow is already racing to greet them.

I turn my head in embarrassment.