In honor of all the funny posts and status updates I've seen in the last few days about crazy, ginormous bunnies and chinchillas and doggies, I decided to add my own animal story. It's a blast from my bloggy past, but it still makes me
angry laugh! I present to you:
Luke, The Dog That Is Very Good at Being Very Bad
"So, I have written about all the members of our little tribe except The Big Brown Turd, AKA - The Big Brown Bear, AKA - Stupid Dog, AKA - The Canine Mafia, or just plain Luke, sometimes Lucas or Lucas Puke-us, as well. Luke is our two year old Chocolate Lab who is basically a good dog which, in our family, means that he pees and poops outside and everything else is overlooked. This boy is one clever lil pupper that makes being bad look sooo easy. He is the original "Marley". I will now share the story of how we acquired such an animal:
Brian wanted him.
The End.
Let me also share with you some evidence that he is completely aware of his behavior and that his shenanigans are intentional and well-thought out:
1. He can precisely time his escapes to the exact moment in which they are least convenient. He waits until we are at our most vulnerable to being knocked flat on our backs, musters all his energy and propels himself toward the door so that he can gallop around the neighborhood while I am stupidly chasing him screaming, "LUKE! HEEL! Come here NOW! THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!" This also proves that he understands comedic timing and the principles of cause and effect.
2. He has *literally* humped everyone we know. Multiple times. This shows me that he knows how to take advantage of an awkward moment. "If I make you feel violated, I dominate the situation." (Not to be confused with The Situation).
3. He is a hit man. Thus far, he has knocked my friend Amy B. down the stairs and destroyed her knee, broken my fingers by pulling me off the curb, dragged Josh and Jason through the mud on their bellies and pulled another person down our front walk just because he CAN!
4. His stomach knows no limits. He ATE a dish towel. You read that right, a DISH TOWEL. And an ENTIRE roasted turkey. And a package of hot dogs. And a bunch cookies off the counter. And several toys. And dirty diapers. And crayons, which coincidentally makes for some crazy colored poop. I think this proves that he has trained his body to be a well-oiled machine and that he has coined the term "extreme digestion"! Disgusting, but clever.
5. He is stealthy. He ate the aforementioned cookies by taking them off the plate with just his lips. I know, I wouldn't believe it either, but I saw him do it. And he can maneuver his 92 lb body into my bed, curl up between Brian and I (and whichever of the children has also stealthily maneuvered in) and sleep for the night and I'm none the wiser until his snoring wakes me the next morning.
6. He understands that floppy ears and sad eyes will get you everywhere. And that the place to be during dinner is not at the table, but under the baby's chair.
I know that he does these things to push the envelope, to see how much we will tolerate before sending him back to the pound, and to prove to his peeps that people CAN be trained. He actually has a point because I get up every morning and serve him his breakfast and let him out to do his business and I occasionally bathe and brush him. I allow him to put his feet on the couch and drink out of the toilet. I let the kids climb all over him and pull his ears/tail/lips because I know that he will not bite, but I don't trust the same thing from my husband. He is such a good bad boy!"
