Jannie Balliett

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Short Stories- Page Three

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Boxers Rules
Boxers Box (and rule)
What is it about dogs and their owners looking alike?

What is it that makes dogs so individually unique? Yes, unique-- no two alike. Not physically of course, but personality-wise.

What makes them think they own us-- not vice-versa?

I own a female Boxer-- rather, she owns me.

Yes, she's trained me well. I'm a little slow, so it took her three years to advance me to the next grade of obedience school. I know how to take her out for a walk on her command and pet and play with her, all with just an eye-to-eye glance.

Let me clarify that.

I'll be sitting on the bed with my laptop on my lap, (where else are you going to put a laptop?) minding my own business, and she'll come up to me nose-to-nose and look me in the eye-- literally, with that demanding, yet comical, look  (I dare not laugh though, unless I want to pay hell later). That all-knowing look (you know the one). The one that says, put your laptop aside, stupid and play with me for a friggin' change. Geez -- you'd think she'd learned by now.

All it takes is a low growl (and trust me, there's nothing like a Boxer-growl) to command me to fetch her some more food (as if a huge bowl wasn't enough). Of course, when I try to eat, (sometimes it is my turn to eat-- not her food, mine. I don't like Kibbles) she inevitably interrupts me for 3/4 of my plate-- no less but, usually more, while demanding seconds. I find myself gulping down my food faster than a rabbit in a race with a turtle-  just to eat it up before she does (she's been known to grab my plate and run off into doggie-land somewhere... 'not sure where that truly is, but I think it‘s somewhere up north) or go hungry-- once again. Thanks to her, I weigh 80 pounds. Great diet plan. Atkins has nothing on her.

When she wants to go outside to tend to business at hand, it's a certain growl that gets my attention. There's a whole different one for number two, of course.

The pee-pee routine is commonly referred to as the 'left-right.' You ask, what the hell is a left-right?

Good question. Let me answer that.

She walks up to previously sniffed and selected spot, (location is everything you know) leads into the spot with her left, followed by her right-- then squats. You can bet on it every time. Money in the bank.

Why do girl dogs squat then look around like they're waiting on a bus to pull up? I mean, boy dogs simply cock a back leg (although, I could name a few that lean forward) and finish up their intended business and move on to bigger and better things-- like sniffing butts or something-- maybe humping a tree.

And, don't think 'marking' is exclusive to male dogs. It's not. Female dogs are worse. It's not just territorial, it's a personalized signature. Roxxie will (and remember, she's on a leash with me attached to the other end) walk in circles, sniffing (Boxers have Bloodhound bred into them-- my luck) while seeking out any spot that was previous defiled by another dog. Once she's found it, she will do a pass-over. Yep, a pass-over. That's when she does a quick step left-right without stopping as she 'marks' the previous violation (in her mind it's an inexcusable sin) and continues moving on, satisfied she's done an accurate job. But, she hasn't finished yet and of course I'm too dumb to realize that.

Then about 15 minutes after returning inside the house to my laptop, (forgetting where I'd left off) she decides it was a little abrupt of me to halt her outdoor adventure and commands me to take her back out. Well hell, I'd just gotten comfortable and in the middle of the great next novel when she rudely lets me know I was stupid for my ignorant abruptness.

Here we go ... back outside just to sniff out the violated areas once more, and to also check out the spot she'd previously marked, (before being interrupted by yours truly) satisfied it was good enough. Then, she walks me in circles again, (she absolutely loves watching me weeble-wobble from dizziness-- but I don‘t fall down--often) until she's found the perfect spot to dump.

Once achieved, she usually adds that extra touch-- one, two, three, back legs and feet (back legs and paws? Dunno, she thinks they are her secondary back-up weapons in case her front ones get disabled and can't box anymore) scratch the dirt, (yes, dirt... the grass is long gone and a fading memory now, thanks to her. And the pee-pee spots kill grass, no less... who needs a lawnmower?) just to say, take that you jerks.

This time, I make sure I follow orders. I'm trained to wait for her cue to return inside. Although, sometimes I get a brain-fart and forget. It happens.

While I'm leisurely laying on the bed, laptop on my lap, (As I said previously, where else do you put a laptop? I've tried putting it on my head, but I couldn't see the monitor and couldn't reach the keyboard. I always forget where the 'Enter' key is. My memory isn't as good as it once was) being a genius in my own world, (mind you, I am alone inside my own world, so I can be a genius if I want to) she decides she'll snooze beside me-- err, I mean, snooze where I am laying-- the exact spot, (I‘ve already warmed it up for her and it‘s nice and fluffy now. It's my job) so I'm literally falling off the bed, desperately trying to save my laptop from guaranteed destruction when it hit's the floor, (and at that point, juggling, trying not to spill the glass of green tea I was holding at the time-- she always waits until I have a glass in my hand-- timing is everything. Thank God it wasn‘t hot coffee-- this time) but I managed to pull off a fast save, although clumsy as it was. Being forced to go to the other side of the bed in order to continue being the genius that I am, writing the next great novel, I accept the fact-- she is the boss, not visa-versa. (it's easier that way, so I don't get boxed and beat up very often. I bruise easily.)

Boxers box. Do you think that's how they got the name 'Boxer'? Probably. That‘s my best guess anyway.

Roxxie has a boyfriend, Rocky-Joe-Boxer. (You can check him out on MySpace. He has a cool profile but an old profile long abandoned.)

They love to love each other, (don't get me started on that-- she swore me to secrecy) and when they play, well, it looks like fighting to any innocent passerby. They stand, (yes, Boxers can stand-- amazes the helloutta me. I'm not comfortable looking one straight in the eye at 5'2" ... especially when they have built-in boxing gloves) and they viciously and violently, box each other. Of course, you have to have a ref in the ring-- one that has a good eye, to supervise the event. Someone has to announce a TKO.

Well, gotta go ... Roxxie is commanding me to fetch her another pig's ear-treat. (I never get a break)

I have to add before I go, I swear I don't look anything like her-- I mean, I have green eyes.

So if you own a dog, you might want to check yourself out in a mirror.

What is it about dogs and their owners looking alike?

*Roxxie and Rocky have now had three (3) litters of little Roxxies and Rockies... 18 children in all. Congratulations!
 (I kept the very last one born on 09/10/2011, named Zoe. She looks and acts just like daddy! Sadly and unfortunately, Roxxie had to be euthanized 6/20/2013 due to untreatable seizures. We will all miss her terribly.)

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