The Life of Ebony

If I were ever to be reincarnated, I want to come back as my dog. Ebony, the black mutt we rescued from an animal shelter, is definitely living la vida loca (translation, an easy life made possible by silly humans) and if given the chance, I’d do it just like she does.

Eb starts her day early with a vigorous, and evidently very satisfying, session of self licking. Ebony is a master licker. She could earn a Golden Tongue award, if there was such a thing, at the Dog Olympics. She licks like there’s no tomorrow. And did I mention that she starts early? Five o’clock in the morning, to be exact. I know this because she always launches her lickfest – complete with loud slurping and popping sounds -- right next to my bed, where she insists on sleeping.

Oh, I’ve tried moving her to another part of the house. She’ll just come lie down next to me on the bare floor. I’ve even tried shutting my door. She’ll scratch and whine all night if necessary until I open it.

So when this inconsiderate cur wakes me up with her morning saliva massage (did I happen to mention it’s at FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING?), I’ll just roll over and try to go back to sleep. If I’m able to do this, Ebony will ensure that I don’t turn into a sleeping-til-sunrise slugabed by licking me right in the mouth. With the same tongue that she’s just used to lick every part – and I do mean every part – of her flea-bag form.

And while I am now fully awake and retching into the bathroom sink, Eb – having successfully completed her morning tasks – decides to take a nice, long nap.

Sometime in the afternoon, she’ll awaken with a blissful sigh and a sumptuous stretch and move on to the second part of her day, which involves getting her bowl filled up with dog food. She starts with the stare-down. There I’ll be, at my computer, bleary-eyed and cranky from lack of sleep, hoping to write something profoundly funny. Ebony will place herself right in front of me and, and by never taking her eyes off me, attempt to subliminally communicate the fact that she’d like to be fed.

Being bleary-eyed and cranky and knowing just who to blame for that, I subliminally communicate the fact that I don’t care by totally ignoring her.

That’s when she moves into the next phase. She begins pushing her empty metal bowl around the kitchen, knowing full well that it makes a lot of racket. I abandon subliminal communication for something more direct.

“Ebony Joyce Papandrew! Stop it now!” I shout, using her full name -- yes, she has a full name -- just like I use my children’s full names when I am communicating my displeasure with them.

The bowl momentarily stays put, and the house is silent. But it’s just a clever, psychological ploy. After a few quiet minutes and with dastardly doggie daring, Eb will then hook her paw under her unfilled dish and actually fling it through the air so that it lands with a great clatter on the kitchen tile.

This propels me, muttering curses I wouldn’t want my mother to hear, out of my chair and straight to the cabinet that holds the dog food. Round two goes to the canine.

After filling her stomach, Ebony contentedly settles down for another nap. When she again wakes up, she will devote her evening to catching crumbs of people grub that fall from the counters or perhaps engage in an energetic round of barking at a neighbor’s dog. She might even go out for a walk with her utterly submissive human.

And as I said, in my next life, I want to come back and live the life of Ebony. If I can just find an owner as stupid as the one she has.

~  © Jackie Papandrew 2007 ~

Jackie Papandrew is an award-winning writer, syndicated humor columnist, coffee addict and mom to a motley crew of children and pets who provide a steady stream of column ideas and dirt. She's also wife to a very patient man who had no idea, years ago when he still had time to escape, what he was getting himself into. Visit her website at:  JackiePapandrew.com

[ by Jackie Papandrew Copyright © 2007, (me@jackiepapandrew.com) -- submitted by: Jackie Papandrew ]