THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, January 19, 1996 TAG: 9601180140
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 07 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: Over Easy
SOURCE: Jo-Ann Clegg
LENGTH: Medium: 88 lines
It is 8:45 on a Monday morning and I've already been cussed out twice by a four-footed fur ball who possesses the vocabulary of a bosun's mate trying to get a boat over the side in the face of January nor'easter with 40-knot winds and a temperature that blew the bottom out of the thermometer three days previously.
I'll tell you the story with all expletives deleted. It's a lot shorter that way.
The first round of cursing was triggered by a bottle of vinegar.
The trouble started when I knocked it off the counter. The bottle bounced three times - the third time right under the dog's nose - and took off across the kitchen floor like a bowling ball headed straight for the pocket.
The pocket, in this case, was pretty close to Charlie the Lhasa's crotch.
``What do you think you're doing, you idiot?'' he snarled. (Fill in your own expletives here. Pick any you want, he used them all.)
``I'm trying to get to a cereal bowl,'' I told him. ``The vinegar was in the way and . . . ''
``And you just happened to knock it off in the direction of my head and other important parts,'' he said, sarcasm dripping from his jowls.
``Your head isn't used for much of anything and you don't have any other important parts left,'' I reminded him. ``The SPCA and Bob Barker both said we had to get rid of those.''
``That's another thing I've been meaning to talk to you about,'' he snapped, looking me straight in the eye.
I shrugged. He pouted for a minute or two, then continued his tirade. ``In the past week you've beaned me with a package of frozen spinach, two oranges and a telephone book. You dropped a paring knife, point down, an inch from my snout and you stomped out of the family room causing a two-foot-high stack of magazines to fall off the coffee table.
``That leads me to three important observations here,'' he continued. ``Number one, you're a klutz. Number two, you're a lousy housekeeper. And number three, you're out to do me in.'' Again his tirade was laced with colorful language.
``OK, so I'm guilty on the first two counts and I'm considering taking action on the third,'' I snarled back. ``And if I didn't think the animal rights people would come after me, I'd wash your mouth out with yellow soap,'' I cautioned him.
``H-r-r-rumph,'' he snorted, before heading for the back door to take care of his morning ritual.
I let him out, grateful for a few minutes of peace and quiet.
Ten seconds later he barked. So much for peace and quiet.
I went to the door. He was nowhere around. I sat back down to breakfast. He barked again, I went to the door. Still no dog. Where the heck was he, I wondered.
I followed the sound of the barks which were becoming louder and more frequent by the second.
I found him stomping on the deck outside the family room door.
I let him in. He stormed by me with steam coming out of his ears and unspeakable language coming from his mouth.
``What's the problem now?'' I asked him, ``I couldn't find you.''
He stopped stomping long enough to glare at me. ``You left me out there for 102 hours,'' he snapped. ``I'm freezing to death and you, who claim to have two college degrees and an IQ in the three digit range, can't figure out where I am.''
``As usual, you exaggerate,'' I told him. ``Besides, you haven't used that door since something scared the life out of you on the deck nearly two years ago. I haven't been able to get you near it since.''
``Hey,'' he said, ``you finally got rid of that monster that tried to do me in out there.''
``I did what?'' I asked, truly perplexed.
``You got rid of the jerk. I've been watching for the last two months. He hasn't been there since you put that new doormat down, the ugly brown one with the purple and yellow flowers on it that you bought for 75 percent off in a sidewalk sale.''
``Let me get this straight,'' I said. ``I put out a new doormat and it scares off this supposed monster that's allegedly trying to do you in, the one that only you can see and hear.''
``That is correct,'' he said. ``He hasn't come around once since you brought that thing home. I think he's afraid of the flowers. For once, you did something right around here.''
``And if I put one in the kitchen, would it keep foul-mouthed Lhasa apsos out from under my feet?'' I asked.
I'd like to print his answer, but after I deleted all of the expletives there was nothing left. by CNB