Ranger Bob came over Sunday afternoon. I wanted him to take the altar flowers to his step-father's grave. Both were Army Rangers. We had a vase of Veterans Honor roses, which were kind enough to bloom on the right day. When I look at photos from previous years, I think, "They cannot be that perfect." And they are, far more than the photos indicate.
Sassy addressed the door knocking with ferocious barking, as if I were not headed for the door - or - as if I wanted to throw extra locks on. Her initial stage of greeting Bob is to feign great hurt about not getting her Milkbone, followed by a Pupperoni, followed by some cinnamon cracker. Many chastening barks are laid upon him, so we can hardly converse.
Bob scowls and says, "You chow hound. Can't you think of anything else?" Sassy is in heaven. Like all dogs, she reads the emotion and not the words or feigned scorn. She can hear the slight change in words as he tries to hold back his smiles and laughter.
We had some new dogs move in across Scott. They wanted to do the "Stranger come to kill us all!" bark. I said, "Who's a good boi?" Pause, pointing at each one, "YOU are a good boi." (Animal language is misspelled with bad grammar, so editors, sheathe your swords.) Now the dogs perk up and remain silent. They are good bois.
Try that on strange dogs. They will pull back, as if to say, "You know me? How do you me?"
Sassy sets up a security perimeter after her snacks. Outside she picks a spot where she can see into two back yards, across the street, and over to Scott Lane. No threat has ever come near with her on duty, and she never stops watching and listening.
Five Ellenbergers, German born, served in the US military. |
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