SOMETHING TO MAKE YOU LAUGH

If the readers recall, (which, of course you all do, because who wouldn’t want to keep up do date on the fine pieces of work I churn out every two weeks?) Sadie Grace was the latest star of my recent dog blog. In my heart of hearts, I knew that Lulu would eventually regain top spot. Her antics know no bounds, and I rested comfortably knowing that at some point in the future, she would inspire another work.

However, even she shocked me with how quickly she retaliated. Perhaps, she is the greatest fan of my blog, because not even a week after the PERSISTANCE IS KEY post was ushered into the spotlight, Lulu reclaimed her title as Worst Dog Ever.

The events below are a true, undramatized body of work. It's purpose is to spark fear in hearts, and perhaps sway the opinion of those who are thinking of adopting a basset hound. I hope my words paint a vivid picture, and correctly carry the weight of caution they hold, aiding all in what could truly be a life altering decision.

Being the owner of a basset hound is not for the faint of heart, and only the strong survive. I am humbled to admit that at this point, I have become one of those strong, and long for the days when the worst our dog would do is bark at the grass as it swayed in the wind.

Prepare yourselves well, the story contained below may not be suitable for all audiences.

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Why did we get dogs the same color as the floor of our home? It makes it almost impossible to see the hair that needs to be swept!

Tucked into the small, upstairs bathroom, my mother’s favorite talk radio station mixes unharmoniously with the music blaring from the speakers on my phone. Amidst the noise and my muttered curses as I clean the toilet, a sharp, bright sound can be heard, leading all in the surrounding vicinity to believe that our dog is currently being abused.

She is not. Rather, having finished her meal, she is ready to come back inside, and apparently, my slippers are not carrying my feet fast enough to her liking.

“Coming, Hershey!”

Rounding the curve on the stairs, all thoughts of Hershey’s needs or the worried glances of our neighbors vanish, whisked away by a much more treacherous sight.

“Mom! The front door! It’s open!”

Spinning around violently in her desk chair, my mother’s lips stretch into a horrified “O”, her hand flying to cover the gasp that escapes it. Both still donning pajamas, we dash out the front door together, more gasps escaping as we take in the scene that awaits us.

Sadie Grace, the gentle giant, lumbers feet away from the edge of our lawn, uncharacteristic white snow clinging to her whiskers and wet nose. Though she seems insistent on ignoring our calls, she is not the sight that makes my legs shake and my heart droop. Way out at the edge of the property, tail pointing to the sky and nose pressed to the ground, is Lulu.

“Sadie! Come here, sweetie!” my mother yells, patting her leg, trying to coax the snow-stained mastiff to her side. Turning to me, she adds, “Ellie, go get the keys!”

Reading the unspoken explanation in her mind, I dash back into the house, my slippers slapping loudly against the stained concrete. Keys in hand, I rush back outside, ignoring the snow that gets up and under my bare feet. Bypassing the spectacle in the corner of the lawn, I run towards the dirt-caked Corolla sitting in our circle drive.

Shaking the snow from out of my slippers, I throw open the car door, only to be greeted by a thick layer of ice covering the windshield. In typical New Mexico fashion, nary an ice scraper is to be found in the backseat, proving that we were indeed unprepared for the storm.

Mumbling threats at whoever stole the ice scraper from my car, I shove the useless keys in my pocket, and prepare to track down the moronic basset hound on foot. Spinning on my heel, I see that Lulu has now stooped underneath the edge of the fence, taking a nice, leisurely stroll through the snow-covered fields.

Snow flying behind me, I sprint across the yard, only to turn up short as a loud barking follows me. Casting a nervous look over my shoulder, it appears that Sadie Grace, ever the faithful watchdog, is hot on my tail. Earning the top spot in her class, it appears that the brainiac has mistaken me for an intruder, and is preparing to defend her land with all the strength and grace she has in her 165 pound body.

My mother suddenly appears in the doorway, still shoeless, repeatedly shrieking at her guard to return to her post inside the house. Flicking my gaze back to my target, I see that in my moment of distraction, she has managed to create an even wider gap between us. Ignoring the possible attack behind me, I increase my pace once more, ducking under the fence to take my place in Lulu’s domain.

“LULU!”

My throat goes ragged as I try to guide the basset hound back with my loving, comforting voice, to no avail. Without a care in the world, she continues to trot through the snow, pausing to enjoy the occasional sniff along the way.

Quickly, my pleading shouts turn to insults and slander, alerting the whole neighborhood to my deep, abiding hatred for this dog.

“MAYBE I SHOULD JUST LET YOU GO!”

Blissfully unaware, or perhaps happy to ignore the yells and prayers of her loved ones, Lulu the Basset continues on her merry way. Though, it seems that more hidden treasures in the snow, such as cow pies and dead weeds, attract her attention, slowing her pace and allowing me to come within feet of her.

“Come here, Lulu,” I croon, willing the snow beneath my feet to quiet as I pick my way towards hers.

Just when it seems I might have her in my grasp, my worst nightmare comes to fruition. Hidden behind a bush, a rabbit suddenly abandons its hiding place, darting across the field, and stupidly leading its tracker straight towards it.

Cursing my dreaded life, the foolish, foolish dog that I never really wanted, and possibly even the rabbit itself, I increase my pace again. Immediately, the soles of my feet begin to burn as more snow becomes trapped between the soft fleece and my bare skin.

The field becomes an endless, daunting sea of white. I begin to lose all track of time and reason, wondering if I will spend the rest of my days in this dreaded chase, never to catch my unwanted prey.

The wind cuts through my pajamas, and tears streak down my face, leaving me surprised they do not freeze to my cheeks in giant crystals. Swiping my sleeve under my nose, I let off another blood curdling scream, daring any neighbor who may come out to question my judgement and sanity.

Finally, after weeks of running, though most likely it was only minutes, the hunted makes a costly error. The rabbit long gone, better equipped for a chase through the snow than the basset hound is with her short, stumpy legs, the hideous beast has once again stopped to investigate some sort of plant life.

Creeping up behind her, letting out more enraged groans as she continues to dance just out of my reach, I finally manage to hook my fingers through the links in her collar.

She doesn’t even bother to cower under my glare, looking up at me with innocence, and perhaps irritation that I have cut her fun-filled adventure short.

“I despise you. You know that, right?”

Kicking myself for not bringing a leash, though never trusting this traitor to follow fatefully at my side, the only option left is to heft the “adorable” dog into my arms. Immediately, exhausted from her daring race through the snow, Lulu releases all of her weight against me, going completely boneless in record time.

Contemplating just how much she really means to me, I glance back towards the place we both call home, surprised to see just how little terrain we had actually covered. Surely, we should have been halfway to the Texas border by now.

No, even from where I stand, I can see the dusty, blue car finally making its way around the drive, the smoke streaming behind it promising warmth and shelter.

Hefting the ungrateful weight higher in my arms, I begin to trudge across the two fields we covered, more insults and harsh words mixing in with the fog of my breath.

Halfway to home, my arms burning from the crushing load of an unhelpful damsel in distress, I drop the rescued to the ground, preferring in that moment to stoop over and hook my finger through her collar, then continue to tote her across the wasteland.

Blessedly, the blue car appears on the street beside me, ill quipped to handle the snow, but still a much better option than being directly exposed to the elements. Following Lulu as she ducks under the edge of a fence, I lead her directly to the back door of the car. Happily, giddily one might say, she hops up onto the seat, sticking her nose in my mother’s face to share tales of her wonderful journey.

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Terrifying, isn’t it? This is the stuff nightmares are made of, people! Do not share this story with your children, it has a strong possibility of scarring them for life.

Though the memories now come to me with bits of laugher and a slight shaking of the head, I hope you take its warning seriously. Lulu is a literal menace to society, and I pray that because of my words, no one will unwittingly have to endure the torture I did that fateful, Tuesday morning.

P.S. Is anyone in the market for a slightly used, DELIGHTFUL basset hound?