It’s a tall order to be his go-to-guy, to answer all his silly questions and to keep him from hurting himself. I don’t think that my job is in jeopardy or my favorite spot on the couch is going up for auction. I hope he knows that I do more than that day-dreaming beagle who sleeps all day on top of a little house in his back yard. Anyone can pretend to fly a dog house and fight off an imaginary villain. How hard can it be when your arch-enemy is named after a grocery store pizza?
I like my nickname, the Wonder Pup, it makes me feel fearless and that nothing can stop me — that he and I, together, can make a difference. Even thought my feelings changed when I found out that…our villains are real, I have a great life. I found my purpose. My job is the care for him. It’s not all work. For fun, I like to hide his keys and wallet; it’s one way that I keep him close. I miss the of side of him that pokes fun of other people’s sacred cows. Sure, he seems more mellow, more reflective, and is even nicer than he used to be, but someone has to antagonize the drunken Sparty’s and the inflatable woodchuck that live down the street. I hope he isn’t turning into a cat person.
I like it when he scratches behind my ear’s and plays with me on the floor in the morning. Every now and then, I nudge him after he falls asleep just so he knows I’m still looking out for him. He gives me a lot to worry about, particularly when he starts his sentence with, “Don’t freak out…This may be the start of a minor medical emergency”. That’s my cue to stay calm, even thought things are about to get colorful.
He isn’t as worried about getting stranded anymore or that he might need help getting home from a walk; I just reassure him that if anything does happen, I will use my leash to tie up to a mailbox or a light pole where he will be safe. I promised him that I will always come back with help — or an ice cream truck. Goldens are like that.
I think that I’m a pretty good sidekick. After all, I don’t remember the last time I had to pull him out of the bar or an all-you-can-eat buffet. I know what he expects of me — my job is to make him look good. I have to be on my toes, and to stay sharp; I need to be prepared for any question he throws my way. You would think that I was studying to get on Jeopardy. The questions about politics are easy, but I would like to know where a talk radio guy earned so much about movies and music. I have to admit, he stumped me with the yellow-haired kid and the Raven. Maybe someone out there can tell me who is Paul anyway, and how did he die? Oh, and what is a Walrus?
I am going to try to get him to take me on a walk later tonight. The guy who drives the ice cream truck gave me his sound track that plays when he makes his rounds. I have it cued up on my iPhone. I’ll wait until I see him get off the couch and check the freezer for ice. He falls for it every time. Who can resist a Klondike bar delivered to you at the end of your driveway? Here comes the truck.
Thanks for reading, and helping me prep for the Daily Double.
—<<O>>—-
I wonder if this will get him off his game.
“Hey Daddio, I bet you can’t guess what kind of tree we have behind our pool in the back yard.”
“What is a Black Walrus tree?… I’ll take Arctic Flippered Mammals for $400, Ivy.”
A friend to many, but a sidekick to one, Ivy the Wonder Pup.
Wow, he’s good!