The Great Betrayer

Yesterday, I met a rescued greyhound who sniffed me all over and, because I smelled like Sonnyboy’s slobber and fur and farts and burps, decided that I was okay. I was a person another dog was cool with. The rescued greyhound could be cool with me, too. She curled up right next to me and went to sleep.

Oh, but when I got home! There was such drama.

Who is this I smell on your clothes, B? Don’t you remember what a good boy I am? How soft my ears are? What if I cuddle with you like we’ve been separated for five million years? What if I pace back and forth, panting, because you’ve cheated on me with another dog? How could you? HOW COULD YOU?! I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t even happily bother the Red-Headed Kid. Are you happy? You’ve ruined my whole life. Please don’t leave me.

The Butcher has other dog friends. They’re totally cool. But apparently I am not supposed to know any other dogs that Sonnyboy doesn’t know.

Wait. Are those cookies? You know, I think this could all be cleared up between us for a couple of those cookies.

And when I tried to show him that I didn’t have any cookies, he tried to eat my hand. Which is normally a behavior punishable by banishment from the kitchen. But we weren’t in the kitchen. And I know I shouldn’t laugh at such bad behavior, but the look of shock and disappointment when he’s all “Those were just your fingers! You tart!!!!!” made me laugh.

3 thoughts on “The Great Betrayer

  1. Poor Sonnyboy! So confused he thinks fingers are cookies. I wonder why you’re not allowed to have other dog friends?

  2. The “fingers are cookies” thing I blame on the vet we got him from, because she and her techs and nurses all had pockets full of small dog treats and I think he’s used to being able to kind of gently nibble the treats from between people’s fingers. Because, though we have a rule against him trying to eat my fingers, he does it so gently, like he really is trying to just get at whatever you might be holding.

    But this weird anxiousness about another dog? It’s so strange. I mean, like I said, the Butcher has a ton of friends who have dogs. Sonnyboy does not care when he comes home smelling like them. But he was really upset and anxious about me having some other dog friend.

    I did get some good cuddles out of it, though, so score for me!

  3. It was a fun enough story until, “You tart!” at which point I sorta lost it laughing. I really love the way you go about telling stories.

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