Carrie and Mark have been in
For one thing, he sounds like a coffee percolator when he moves around because he gargles when he breathes. Secondly, he snores as loud as my mother, which I know you probably can’t appreciate because you haven’t heard it, but let me tell you; it’s bad. He doesn’t know many tricks, but he knows the word “cookie.” If you say this word, you had better be prepared to pay up and give him one because the consequences for making him wait are pools of his spit on and around your feet.
Despite all of this, I am quite taken with the little monster whom I lovingly call “Gross-o.” When he isn’t making you clean up his puke or spit, he’s a pretty cool side-kick. Because of his wrinkles, his face is really expressive and he makes me laugh out loud at least four times a day. Also, he is a man-magnet. I have had more men approach me while walking him. So far none of the men have been attractive or interesting, but I still think Truman has some special power.
Mostly, the last 10 days haven’t been too bad with Truman around. The past 24 hours have been the worst. I thought we were having fun but apparently I was alone in these sentiments because Truman has made two escape attempts since yesterday night.
I went home after work yesterday and decided to go in the hot tub. I let Truman come outside with me because he would lose his little Truman mind if I left him inside and because I knew he wouldn’t go far from me since he is insecure in this strange yard and thinks I will leave him. So I let him come outside with me while I went in the hot tub. Things were going swimmingly. I sat in the tub reading my book and getting massaged by the water jets and Truman laid down next to the tub and slept. It was beautiful.
But then, a dog barked in the distance and Truman stood at attention. “Tru,” I said trying to bring his attention back to me and the nice little arrangement we had going. “What’s going on little buddy?” He marched down to the edge of the yard, by the pond and stared off into the woods where, somewhere on the other side, was a house with a barking dog. He won’t do it, I thought. Especially since it would be so inconvenient for me to chase him right now.
Wrong.
Truman darted into the brush to meet/fight the dog in the yard beyond the forest.
I sat there dumbstruck for a moment because I couldn’t even believe my situation. I don’t know about you, but I don’t wear much into hot tubs. Thus, I wasn’t really prepared to run into the bushes where I could run into ticks and/or other people.
I got it together, hopped out of the tub, grabbed my towel and ran into the house to get some clothes. I threw on some capris and a sleeveless T, neither of which went on easily, as I was soaking wet, and ran outside.
Truman was nowhere to be seen. I walked into the woods, calling for him and clapping and whistling, but I heard not so much as the jingle of his collar. I walked around the pond, myself now following the sound of the distant dog barking, and finally saw a short, fat lump of white, that was Truman 100 yards away. I called to him and he turned to me happily as if to say “Oh there you are!” He ran towards me and probably would have just followed me back to the house, but I wasn’t taking any chances and I grabbed his collar and forced him to go back at my pace. I emerged from the woods back at the house covered with mosquito bites and possibly poison ivy.
Truman, sensing that my bad mood was his fault, quietly took himself to the corner in the kitchen for a nap. I spent the next hour itching and glaring at him.
The next morning, I had a similar incident. You would have thought that after the first one, I would have decided to keep him on a leash at all times when I went outside, but no. This morning, Truman came up to my bed and started fussing. I knew he probably had to go potty, so I got up and brought him outside. Because I was going to go back to bed afterwards, and because there is decent tree coverage around the yard and driveway, I did not get dressed but rather just went outside in my PJs, which in my case are underwear and a tank top.
There were some carpenters building a garage across the street and when Truman heard their voices, he couldn’t help himself. He went flying down the driveway and out of the yard before I could catch him. For the fat little stubby-legged creature that he is, he moves surprisingly fast when he wants to. I called for him and called for him, but responding when you call his name is not one of his better tricks. He was gone and once again I found myself left behind because of my nakedness. I went inside and put on some pants and then ran outside and down the driveway. The carpenters, amused by my situation, pointed to where he had gone.
I clapped and called for him and he appeared out of some shrubbery, once again happy to see me. I proceeded to drag him by his collar back into the house and into his pen where I confined him for the next 15 minutes until we both had to leave for work.
Even though he hates it, I have put him on a leash for every outdoor excursion since. Also I have worn more clothing.
1 comment:
For something shaped like a miniature rhinocerous, he's damm fast when he wants to be.
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