Jeepers Creepers– Leaf Peepers! — By Max

Oct 1, 2014

Max Here. I am just fine, Thank You!

And a big “Thank You!” to those of you who are reading this through the link on our new newsletter! Talk about bragging rights! You are my best buddies in the whole world! If I could come out of this computer to rub your head and say “Good Bi-Ped! Good Boy! Let’s go on Walkies!” I would. And then I would give you a treat. A gigantic treat like you have never seen! It would be a lot like the “hamburger” I borrowed from Don when he abandoned it on the den table for 30 seconds. But I wouldn’t get angry like Don if you took my “hamburger” because I know YOU deserve the best treat in the whole world! And you would share that “hamburger” I gave to you with me, Right? Can we share your “hamburger”? Do you have one? I’m starving.

Fall always means there are more older people walking around Boothbay Harbor. Don calls them “Leaf Peepers” for some reason. Maybe it’s because they lie down and Don piles leaves on top of them so they can peep out and they can scare people walking past. Don does this every single year on our lawn at home trying to scare us dogs. I was only scared the first time. Auggie on the other hand is TERRIFIED– Every. Single. Time. Coal doesn’t even notice. It will be interesting to see how my new buddy Buddy reacts to Don’s predictable act. I’ll fill you in when it happens.

Anyway, the Leaf Peepers usually come in and rub me on my head and say something like “I used to have one that looked just like him back in 1957! But he died after eating a whole bottle of Borax I left next to the liverwurst in the icebox.” I like the rub on the head a lot, but it’s kinda creepy to be compared to a deceased dog! But then again it’s way better than the kids who pull my tail and ears and point lasers in my eye in the summer. What is liverwurst, anyway? Sounds delish.

And Fall coincides with the sweet smell of rotten apples everywhere. I love to eat them when no one is looking (like I have a choice). Then I’ll clear out entire rooms of organisms with my gaseous emissions. The best part of gorging on rotten apples? Whining and barking to be let outside for Soupy Poopies 10+ times in the middle of the night to an increasingly angry Don. Such fun times! So much better than fetch!

And finally, the shrinking daylight hours allow me to incessantly beg for my 6pm dinner at 3pm. I flash these “I’m so Hungry….Hungry eyes” that seem to work on almost everyone near the free treat bowl at the shop. Sometimes Don will actually feed me 5 minutes early, but almost always he’s not happy with my prostrations and says “GO LIE DOWN” in an angry voice. But if Don doesn’t comply with the legally-binding 6pm feeding regimen, I will try more extreme measures. Like suddenly cutting in front of him to innocently sniff a discolored tile I’ve known was there for the last 5 years while he’s carrying the 200lb air conditioner into the basement.

I am Max. Don’t mess with my hamburger.