My human works from our house and somehow thinks I should be pleased about this. He’s suffocating me! What do I do?
Deco, Labrador Retriever
Leapin’ Lassie, but do I feel your pain.
My Short Daddy “works” from home too and I never get a minute’s peace around here. Yes, I’m aware that I’m getting older, but that doesn’t mean he needs to yank me outside to pee every two hours. I’m sleeping here, you fool.
And poor Deco, just look at the photo you submitted. Not only is your socially-challenged professional shut-in snapping pictures at inopportune times, but his lack of footwear indicates a clumsy attempt to redefine the concept of “casual Friday” with a homespun exposed-smelly-feet spin.
We dogs may lick our bums but we have to draw the line at feet in the face.
And to you paranoid work-at-home humans: do you really think the house is going to self-destruct without your presence? Relax! The days of Lassie may be long gone but if Timmy is dumb enough to fall in the well—and you’re not here—Timmy can simply wait until you get home.
Deco, consider this: when your human leaves his home office to turn the sound up on The View, hop up on your hind legs and give a paw swipe or two to his—I think they call it—keyboard. If you can manage it, focus specifically on the keys identified as “Ctrl,” “Alt” and “Delete.”
If you don’t have the patience for that, drooling on the keyboard is also likely to result in your human’s realization that “home-based” was a baseless decision regarding his/her full-time workplace.
However, proceed very cautiously. Any activity perceived as an “anxiety disorder” will result in a heapin’ helpin’ of Puppy Prozac, and you’re likely to mentally miss out on the balance of 2012 and the majority of 2013.
Of course, I’m already on record that I have learned to open our front door unassisted. What is not known to my daddies is that I’m busily at work on developing two new skills: closing the door and—yep—locking it behind them.
I’m a little bit country…
What is the difference between a City Dog and a Country Dog?
Bandit, Australian Shepherd
As a resident of “Jurassic Park”—wedged between the sprawling metropolises of Naples and Marco Island, FL—I am in a somewhat unique situation, because I live adjacent to both worlds.
I mean—what does a city dog have that a country dog would ever really want? Elevator races? Concrete pee receptacles? Starbucks?
Besides, as a “country dog,” I enjoy kicking back with other species. For me, there’s nothing quite as exciting as butt-sniffing an alligator on my morning walk or enjoying the spectacle of a free-wheeling boa constrictor slithering down the drainage ditch. Good times.
However, I have discovered that city pups have access to much better cable. When I am left alone—and we have already established that happens all too infrequently—my daddies are good enough to leave on the television “to keep me company.”
Clearly, they still don’t understand that I’ll most likely be sleeping—again.
But what dog doesn’t want unlimited Animal Planet viewing privileges? However, to be completely honest, my preference would be for a 24/7 Judge Judy Channel. Whether your pup roots originate in the country or the city—in a world obsessed with good and bad canine behavior—that Judge Judy Sheindlin sure knows how to make you humans sit up and beg.
Besides, I love me some Alan Jackson and Sara Evans as much as the next dog, but how much CMT can I really take?
Tony Wakefield-Jones is a 10-year-old psychologically gifted Airedale. He can be found on Facebook at facebook.com/tony.wakefieldjones. A member of a family of creative minds, his Short Daddy, writer Randall Kenneth Jones, has humorously chronicled his own personal and professional foibles on attackbunnies.com.