There once was a dog named Flapjack, who never really grew into his ears.
Despite the ears, listening and behaving are not exactly Flapjack’s strong suit. He’s a stealthy little dog with his own agenda. The rules do not apply.
Because of this, Flapjack and his “brother” Charlie, are barricaded from the dining room where a lot of my pen/pencil/notebook collection lives. Things are mostly stored in boxes, but there’s an embarrassing level of disarray. I have great plans. And I try. Then I lose steam and go read a book instead. I really hesitate to share, but what the hell…
Last evening we couldn’t find Flapjack, and quickly realized that he was barricaded INSIDE the dining room. The room was dark, but Fred yelled, “HE’S GOT A PEN!” Well, *&$#!! Flapjack initially evaded me by scampering around under the dining room table and staying just out of reach. I headed him off on one of his passes and found that he DIDN’T have a pen in his mouth, but this was not cause for celebration. Nope, not a pen, but he DID HAVE a BOTTLE OF INK!!! Brad Dowdy’s “Fire On Fire” Robert Oster ink—a plastic bottle of BRIGHT ORANGE INK clamped between those surprisingly strong Silky Terrier jaws!!Cardiac arrest.
He was not in the mood to give up his “chew toy.” Despite those big ears, our yelling had zero effect, except to convince him that this was a real prize—something he should definitely hang onto. He clamped down harder and let out a low growl.
Dog for sale. Cheap.
Plan B: A bribe of plain old dog food convinced him to release his find.
As you can see, the cap was chewed and damaged but remained intact, as did the plastic bottle.
And…thank YOU, Robert Oster for chew-proof ink bottles and caps! This could have been a very different–and very orange–story.
Worst dog ever. And yet so very adorable. This might be the flapjack paradox!
I will be passing the link to this entry on to my sister Joan, who has a Yorkshire terrier from hell. She may be interested to know she is not the only one! -Kate
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This story reminds me of my Minature Pinscher when he was younger. He has gone through his nine lives already… my husband swears he’s a cat.
Today he vomited and collapsed after eating. He’s almost 15. We are looking into it. I would give anything for those days of sweet mischief again.
So sorry! I miss our dear sweet older dogs so much. Thinking of you!
That story has everything!
Late to the party but so deeply touched and delighted by the tale, I had to comment. My late wife and I did animal rescue for many years, and how well do I recall having to track down and trade various missing items- from pens, to thermometers, to eyeglasses and more- with our adorable furkinder. Nowadays, I look at some of the toothmarks on things and smile with a warm heart, for the memories.
Awwww…those are nice memories to have. Stressful at the time, but sweet memories now.