Confessions of a Canine Drama Queen

Many of you who know me, also know my dog. Or at least have gleaned enough from reading my entries to know JUST HOW affected my Princess Summer really is.

If not, here's a little background.

Summer is my 5 year old Siberian Husky.

She is quite possibly smarter than your fourth grade teacher. However, instead of the seed in a cup bit to teach you about life, Summer brings you dead things so that you can realize just how fleeting it really is. Especially if you're 2 inches long, you squeak and you happen to live in my house. Mice Beware -- Case da 2.5 gay men and a woman is not prime vacation locale.

But she is brilliant when she puts her mind to it.

For example, most dogs are quite content to hang out in the house or the backyard. In addition to being quite a cerebral canine, Summer is also every bit as athletic as David Beckham (and about as thin as Victoria). Not content to live to relaxed life of a pampered house dog, Summer finds ways to outsmart every biped in the house by escaping every-chance-she-gets.

A flaw in the fence?

She'll find it.

The door not shut tightly enough?

She'll open it.

A pile of junk left to close to the fence (courtesy of crazy landlord, no doubt)?

She'll utilize it and scale the fence.

But she needs no junk -- she's highly capable of clearing a 6 foot fence from a standstill. And does. Frequently.

And off she goes on another adventure, or at the very least, just a leisurely walk around the neighbourhood. Expect her back in 30 minutes, a little thirsty and with a voracious appetite.

She is just about the most well known dog in the neighbourhood.

Every once in awhile, I'll be out walking her (on leash!) and someone will stoop down and greet her, "Hi Summer", and give me a knowing smile before continuing on their way. Summer wags her tail and gives me a sad look like, "I think I may have more friends than you, Mom".

Or others will be out in their yard and look over and yell at me, "Did she get out again?".

I blush a little and shake my head.

"No, No, sometimes she actually walks on lead".

2 years ago, when dickhead and I first moved into this house, and brought Summer to come live with us, she escaped. I can't even remember how it was that she got out, but she did, and she was gone for just over a week. She elluded animal control, refused their milkbones and was discovered 15 blocks away from home living in a car lot. The salesman told me he couldn't get close enough to her to catch her, but he watched her slowly taking down their jackrabbit population, bunny by bunny and knew she was obviously resourceful enough to keep herself fed.

She came home and still has a taste for rabbit.

She understands most things that are said in the house, zeroing in on 'fun words' such as cookie, walk, leash, car and supper. Words like bad, dog, stop, eating, the, kitty and litter are also recognizable but to a lesser extent. They usually result in her laying her ears back and going to lay by the washing machine.

But Summer hates garbage day.

The day the big noisy trucks come, drive up and down alleyways for 3/4 of the morning and haul away our undesirables.

For some unknown reason (possibly due to some traumatic event that occured on her week long 'vacation') she REFUSES to go outside on garbage day.

Every one of these mornings I haul her outside, place her on the grass and pray she'll stop being neurotic for long enough to go do her business. But she knows. I can't hear even the most telltale of noises that the big 'monsters' are in the vicinity, but there she is involuntarily shaking, panting, ears back and pouncing at the back door to let her go inside. So I do, and then she goes to hide someplace.

Most often, the closet.

And I hurry, just barely making it to my stop before the bus arrives.

And that night, when I get home from work, Summer bounces around my feet, oblivious to how angry I still am about the morning's fiasco. So I let her outside, she uses her time wisely, comes back inside and puts her head in my lap and stares at me with her big blue eyes.

Alright Summer, all is forgiven. Cookie?

And next Thursday, we'll do it all over again.