Separation Angst – by Auggie

Mar 1, 2018

(Editors Note: Auggie must use the word “Rutabaga” in this blog or forfeit a snack).

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I am Augustus and every fibre of my canine being loathes you for the hairless ape you are. It’s not your fault. But you should try harder in future. Like spelling fiber, fibre. Make a note of it, and someday you may become the Striding Canine Colossus I am.

All I have ever wanted was to be appreciated by those I serve. And I have been disappointed by my pack of Bipedal Malingerers repeatedly. I strive to be the best dog I can be. I am social, witty, and an overall pleasure to be around. Why wouldn’t an Uprighter want to include me in everything they do?

It’s so transparent the nights the Bipeds want to go out and leave their faithful companions behind. If they’re exceedingly lazy, they’ll just toss treats into the Honda Pilot and steal away for the time of their lives whilst us dogs starve/freeze/broil/die of loneliness. However, most of the time they have the respectability to give us dinner. But shortly thereafter they’ll turn the TV or radio on, pitch treats at us, lock us in the apartment, and rocket out of the building before Big Dumb Buddy even knows he has a “Distraction Treat.” Sure, Don & Liana give us a fairly long-lasting treat like a No Hide, or a Marrow Bone, but us dogs would enjoy it much more if they would sit down and watch us enjoy it. NO TOUCHING. NO TASTING. Just watching and loving us for what we are eating. It would mean a lot to us.

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When I am thrown my distraction treat, I will indulge those Furless Jugheads and chew it until it is finished. Then I will helpfully pick all the crumbs off wherever I ate said treat. Then I will lick the floor where the crumbs were. Eventually I will go help that dunce Buddy finish his treat. He is so pathetically slow I think he is baiting me. Time after time I will have to go over to Buddy, take his treat, and show him how to wolf it down in the fastest time possible. Every time I have done this, I think we’ve made progress. Yet every subsequent time I’ve been dispirited. I’ll look over at him after finishing the crumbs of my treat and Buddy won’t have finished but a third of his. How many times must I instruct him? How many times shall I have to steal your treat before you learn, Buddy?

Max, on the other hand, will drag his treat like an antelope carcass to the bathroom and guard it like a marauding, happy-tail-wagging hyena. If I even come within 15ft of him, he’ll jump up and drag his kill into some more easily-defensible citadel. This is understandable because since I was a pup, I have been terrorizing Max and stealing his treats. (Editor’s Note: This video was taken years before we understood the dangers of rawhide. Please don’t try to shame me. We don’t even sell it in the shop). Throughout the years, I have honed my craft and gotten so surreptitious that Fatso will have to bury his bounty in some Dog-forsaken cesspit outside. When he digs it up he is welcome to it. It is the most foul, stinky, and diseased of treat remains— guaranteed to churn both Biped and Canine stomachs just looking at it.

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And what, exactly, is a dog supposed to do when the treats are gone? Crochet? Make prank phone calls? Play whist? Max and Buddy crawl onto the couch like a couple of slugabed rebels and go to sleep. I, on the other hand, need constant stimulation and engagement. That’s when I’ll go hunting, and no matter what you Shoe-Wearers say, I am justified in doing it. There are two things you Drynoses need to understand about my Hunting. #1) I am not obvious. The rest of you curs may get off on getting into the garbage, eating up rolls of toilet paper, and gnawing on shoes, but that’s not a game I play. #2) I only use this method 1 in 10 times when left alone in the apartment. If a dog tries it more frequently, he will be caged and drugged and will have no fun whatsoever forever. Trust me on this. The Hunting infrequency will keep your Two-Legged Tormentors always guessing and their guard down.

When I decide it’s safe to Go Hunting, I usually start by shredding any important papers that belong to Liana. Those are delicious. then I move onto Don’s computer equipment. For some reason, the mouse tastes great. And it’s not what you think. I don’t like to eat scuttling mice in real life, just Don’s computer equipment that’s named after a mouse.

If those Donkeys still don’t come home, I’ll begin the methodical destruction of the kitchen. Believe me, Kitchen-Destruction can be a beautiful work of art. It cannot be done by dogs that are sloppy, frantic, or pedantic. It MUST be done by a dog with an artistic composure. Let me share my process with you.

1) Edible Targets: Any food, spices, used baking pans, used frying pans, etc., empty fruit juice containers, previously used forks spoons ladles, etc., treats, dog medicine, or plants. Then I’ll lick all the parts of the counter where food once was.

2) Targets That Make Noise: Breakable dishes, fire alarms, confiscated squeaky toys from the cabinets, pots, pans, and glassware from the cabinets, knocking the phone off the hook….

3) Things That Can Kill a Dog: Chocolate, raisins, used knives, deadly plants like poinsettias, property tax checks, hot kettles of tea water, getting into the liquor cabinet…

4) Bizarre, Unexplainable Things That Keep The Bipeds Scratching Their Fatuous Skulls: Bagged kitty litter, soap, TV remote controls, doorknobs, bags of flour, blue plastic sleds, and a healthy dose of hairbrushes and curlers.

I know the hairbrushes and curlers are in the bathroom and not the kitchen. But that should give you an idea of how to exercise artistic license and perhaps liven up your dreary existence a smidgen. You’re welcome.

Perhaps next time we’ll discuss what to do when your Fried-Clam-Stuffed Drunken Monkeys stumble through the door and are furious with your artwork. Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Oh, and for Dog’s Sake, “Rutabaga.”

I Remain,

Augustus M.B. Kingsbury