Dialogue With A Daschund
I mean, sat down and had a face to muzzle conversation with a dog? If you have you know that it doesn’t take long to see that, aside from their name, and a word or two like “bacon,” or “down,” they really don’t know what you’re talking about. The movement of your lips might keep their eyes focused on you, but deep down you know that nothing is really getting through.
I get that same feeling when I try speaking with some people.
When I’m talking with someone behind the counter at the Post Office about holding our mail while we are away, it takes about 30 seconds before I get the feeling that I’m dealing with a Basset Hound. Their head begins to tilt and they look lost.
If I tell the counterperson at Burger King that I don’t want cheese on my Whopper, I might as well be trying to explain it all to our neighbor’s dog who loves to howl at every passing siren that he hears.
The reason I bring this up is that I plan on calling the local newspaper to cancel our subscription (there are a number of reasons why) and I’m fearful that I’ll have better luck if I just go to the Animal Shelter, and cut out the middleman.
The last time I had to talk to someone at the newspaper I was sure that I could hear, “Who Let the Dogs Out,” playing in the background.
You see – there is one very basic hurdle when dealing with our newspaper – Language. It gives them trouble. Trying to explain to them that I wish to cancel our subscription might be too much for them to understand. It might just send them over the edge.
It’s not that they aren’t nice people. I’m tempted to scratch them behind the ears. It’s just that getting them to actually listen, understand and then carry out simple instructions is like trying to get a Chihuahua to master driving a stick shift Chevy.
I like dogs. I really do. It’s just that I’d rather not have to deal with them when they have computer access. They get distracted and forget why they logged on to begin with. I think that may be how “Candy Crush” was invented. Some Schnauzer was trying to arrange for a home loan, lost track when he got to figuring out interest rates, and ended up inviting everyone on Facebook to join him. That may also be why so many dogs have substandard housing.
So, in the next few days, I will venture forth in an attempt to stop them from leaving their newspaper. We don’t want to return from Ireland after seven weeks to find a mountain of soggy Tribune-Stars piled up in the front yard. That may happen anyway, but I must try.
I’m just glad that I’ll be dealing with demi-dogs and not cats. While dogs might look blankly at me and then scratch themselves, cats might attack and scratch me.