I was lying on the floor near our window overlooking the creek, soaking up the sun. It was a rare moment of calm in the busy life of an international canine religious icon. I stretched out slowly, my legs shaking with satisfaction as I let out a big yawn. My gaze turned to the yard outside. I felt such contentment that I didn't even bother to bark at the passing ducks. As my eyelids grew heavy and I laid my head back on the soft rug once again, I heard something from the other room.
"Mugsy!" my mother exclaimed. "It's time for revolution!" I sprang to my feet and ran a quick circle before bounding toward the living room, adrenaline coursing through my veins. "Yes!" I thought. "Today is the day for revolution! We shall overthrow this human-dominated government. We shall install pugs and terriers and bulldogs in positions of power. We shall make the humans wear leashes for a change." I rounded the corner, running in place for a moment as my paws sought traction on the tile floor. "Yes, Mother," I barked, "it is time for revolution! Summon my followers. We shall convene at the mosque in 15 minutes." But then she grabbed me by the collar and held a small bottle between my shoulder blades. "There you go, Mugsy," she said." There's your Revolution. Now you won't have any fleas."
I was left with nothing but a tuft of spiky fur on my back. Why must I fall for this ruse every single month?
4 comments:
I hate when that happens!
Sorry for the disappointment. When I mention frontline to my dogs, they start running toward Canada.
Alas, sometimes we mothers must plan an elaborate ruse to do what is best for those we love. Did you at least get a snausage or two?
Frontline is a much better name -- not as enticingly deceptive as Revolution. As I recall, I received a Milkbone for my pain and suffering.
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