I now have a cold, my period and a bad attitude, but the good news is that my sister’s dog is home with us in sunny Needham, Mass., and he is quite amusing.
His name is Luke, and I actually let him kiss me on the lips, which means that I am either very lonely or that he’s an unusually charming dog. Until today, I would have said the latter. Now, I’m leaning toward joining Match.com.
I worked a half day today from Mom’s sofa and then collapsed into a sniffly fog, only to be awakened by the cable guys, who’d come to upgrad Ma and Pa Smash’s TV setup. There were two of them, and they were very friendly. Unfortunately, their very presence was seen as a clear act of aggression by Mr. Luke. (Full name: Luke Lucius Rufus Optimus Prime Beauregard Bourque.)
He barked. He growled. He snapped at their feet. After a couple seconds of this, Meg swooped him up and put him in this crate, where he mostly settled down. Sometimes, you’d hear a little “Rrrrr … ORRRF!” But mostly, he was good.
The cable guys were here for hours. At one point, long after the sun had set, Ma Smash came over to my sick bed and hissed, “I swear to God I hear one of them showering up there. What the fuck are they doing?”
Mrs. Piddlington (full name: Meghan Hubley Bourque) concerned that he was unhappy in the crate, would try to let him out. She did this three times, and each time, he started tracking the Evil Cable Guys, sniffing out their location in the house and then barking uproariously as they cowered in the basement or upstairs or in a corner of the living room.
After the third time, she said, “Well, this was to be expected. He hasn’t had a bad day yet.”
“I think it’s hilarious,” I offered from my couch.
“He’s just a sweet boy!” said Mom.
“Oh yeah? You think so?” Mrs. P leaned over the back of the couch and called into the dining room, where Luke’s crate was. “I’m going to sell you, Luke!”
“Oh no! Don’t say that.”
“Mommy doesn’t love you any more!”
“What if he can understand you? You’ll hurt his feelings!”
I raised my head for a minute. “He thought the cable guys were going to murder us. I don’t think he gets it.”
“Yeah, it doesn’t matter what you say,” Meg said. “It’s how you say it.” In a sweet voice, she said: “Mummy’s going to give you away!”
“Who wants a puppy? Free with crate and toys!”
“Oh, Luke, don’t listen to Mummy. You stay here with Gramma. Gramma loves you best!”
“I’m going to put of those little cords down outside the house, aren’t I, Luke? Yes! Just like at the gas station. The first time it goes DING! I’m going to run out and give you to that person! Doesn’t matter who!”
“OH MY GOD. YOU STOP SAYING THAT TO THAT DOG RIGHT NOW.”
I got up and ran into the bathroom.
“Sweetheart? What’s the matter?”
“I believe it’s called ‘giggle incontinence.'”
I am not the funniest person in my family. I just need the most attention.
One thought on “Luke vs. the Cable Guys”
…I’ve been telling my cat that I’m going to make him into mexican food for years now.
To the point that one of my former roommates called him “burrito” all the time.
He doesn’t mind.
He does mind being kosher, but how else is he going to get into heaven?