Boz was a pretty good pooch this year. Sure there were some mishaps, encounters with oriental rugs that needed shampooing anyway, coffee table climbing expeditions for unattended hors d’oeuvres, and foraging safaris to find fresh chew toys in the form of young corn stalks and baby pumpkins, but for the most part, the big guy was a poster child of obedience, or at least his (and my) interpretation of it.
So when his pal (and mine) Tamara, presented him with a gift of a bobble-headed bulldog, his look (and mine) was one of a pause, which is not surprising as she usually brings steak and bacon scraps. (I assume for the dogs.) If a befuddled Boz could speak he’d likely have said, “Hmm, You can’t eat it, you can’t play with it, and it doesn’t look a bit like me anyway.
Tamara proceeded to tease him with his detachable-headed doppelganger, until Boz began to bark (translation: get that ugly thing out of my face).
What Tom says, “Tamara, Please, don’t tease Boz, he’ll be barking at that thing all night.”
What Tamara hears, “Tamara, blah, blah, blah, Boz, blah blah blah blah.
“Look buddy, this nook ain’t big enough for the two of us“
Later that night Boz, made his move, jumping off the bed, and heading downstairs to secure the kitchen from the unwanted and unattractive interloper. Target found, the barking ensued. When I reached the kitchen, he was looking up at the bobblehead, growling slowly, purposefully. Bobble bully had nothing to say in return, just an icy possessed stare, that even disturbed me.
One coerced treat later, Boz was distracted enough to return upstairs. (Who’s the smarter one here?) The growling has since subsided but his fascination with the windowsill tchotchke has not. Perched on his favorite chair, he’s ready for it to make one false move.
As for Gracie, she hightailed upstairs when she saw Auntie Tamara coming at her with a canine pumpkin costume.Lucky for Boz his bumblebee outfit didn’t fit. (He’s one big bumble.)
What Tom says, “That’s sweet of you Tamara, but Boz and Gracie don’t do costumes. I promised them.”
What Tamara hears: “Blah, blah, blah, Tamara, blah Boz and Gracie blah blah blah blah.
(Oh and Tamara, just for the record, you’re still B&G’s favorite Auntie, despite their recent humiliation, and that’s not the steak scraps talking either. Um, and that marinade, nice touch, uh I mean that’s what they tell me.)