A week into my new life of being owned by a dog has brought several revelations. First; I haven’t been this watched since was in the third grade and Mrs. Fancher dragged my desk to the front of the classroom and placed it beside her’s. For some odd reason she felt I needed closer scrutiny. I am never alone anymore. Santa could take notes from my new owner, Spanky.

Until this week I was unaware I needed a routine. Evidently routines are a must for a dog. Who knew? I am awakened every morning before seven. Nature calls canines early. However, I am proud to say I have stood my ground. He has to wait until I have shaved, showered and ready for the day before I walk out the front door. That’s MY routine.

The call never seems to happen in my yard. Evidently my yard isn’t good enough or doesn’t smell right. No. We have to walk half a mile down the street from whence the mysterious call emanates. I think Spanky’s previous owner misnamed him. His name should be Mark Twain. The deeper we traverse into the neighborhood the more he feels compelled to mark something. I have determined that every twenty five fathoms down the street there is a mailbox, a garbage can or something that must be sniffed and marked. My wife suggested I take a dooty bag with me. I feel as if I should carry a roll of toilet paper, but that may look a little obvious.

It’s been a long time since I last had a dog. I had forgotten that after they answer nature’s call they do a weird little thing with their back legs, it’s like scratching off, but they don’t go anywhere. I’ve learned to watch for that. Evidently Spanky finds it amusing to kick grass and dirt all over me. I think it’s rude.

I never knew there were so many worms crawling on the street early in the morning. I guess that’s where that early bird gets the worm term originated. - Another revelation from a dog. Worms and flat frogs get his attention. They must be sniffed.

After we have finished our half mile trek to the restroom we return home where I’m allowed to make coffee and eat breakfast in peace while he laps copious amounts of water to replenish his marking apparatus. Then we go into the study where I get on the computer to read the newspaper and scroll through emails. I delete the Pinterest and Monster.com emails first. I’m not interested in a new project or a job. I’m retired. I click on YouTube and see what new stuff they’ve discovered in the pyramids. I check for the latest UFO sightings and see if Planet X is any closer to crashing into the earth. Spanky’s not interested. Neither is my wife.

When I click on Susan Boyle videos he perks up. He likes Susan Boyle. Who knew?

Before lunch we make the half mile trek again, come home and replenish his marker with more copious amounts of water. I have learned not to take him for a ride in my car. He gets excited and wraps his leash around the shifter. That wasn’t fun. I’ll have to try him in the truck someday. I think it’ll be safer.

We bought him an electronic perimeter fence for our backyard. It beeps when he gets forty feet from the transmitter. If he gets any further out he is urged to immediately back away. Now our lovely yard is decorated with little white flags. I would advise anyone to not test the shock collar on themselves. Trust me; it works. However, if you ever want to speak in tongues, go ahead and strap that sucker on. If you feel a little depressed, it’ll snap you out of your funk real quick. My advice is to stay the heck away from those little white flags. They are there for a reason.

Spanky takes me out for the last time just before bedtime. That’s when it’s time to mark the day lilies, bar-b-que grill, his favorite rock and the satellite dish for good measure. He won’t sleep alone. He cries. I’m thinking of entering him in the Olympics. I’ve discovered he is a high jumper. My wife is vertically challenged and has to use a set of miniature stairs to get into bed. Not Spanky. One leap and he’s up. Did I mention he snores? My wife said he learned that from me. He also talks in his sleep. The other night I was awakened by a loud thud and a groan. He rolled over in his sleep and fell off the bed. I hate it when that happens. I used to do that when I was a kid. Well, at least he has carpet.

Tomorrow I’ll be awakened at the same time and we’ll repeat this circle of life thing again. Routine. It’s all about routine. If you don't believe me, ask Spanky.

_______________
Rick Algood
May 24, 2016