Payback for Halloween Costume

Payback for Halloween Costume

I wasn’t thinking of revenge for my Halloween humiliation, but sometimes opportunity raises her head. Recently, the Old Man took me back to one of my favorite trails, the one on Harbor Bay that winds by our Bay’s waters. Plenty of open space and fresh Bay winds rustle my ears and carry interesting smells. Low tide is the best. All kinds of things appear. Ground squirrels and other critters live amidst the rocks, ice plants and grass, tantalizing and frustrating me. I spot them, but they easily dart to safety into their deep holes.
I love to swim, but as you know I am always on a leash so my opportunities to jump in the Bay are extremely limited. One day, on this favorite trail the opportunity arose. The Old Man had been following obediently behind me when I answered the call of nature. While he was bending over bag in hand doing his civic duty, opportunity raised her head.

The wind carried a delightful, powerful scent. I may be a model citizen, but I am a dog. I couldn’t help myself. I lunged over the ice plants yanking the leash from the Old Codger’s grasp onto the beach and into the water. After a quick splash and swim, I found my target: a friendly fisherman had left the rotting carcass of his catch lying on the sand, Ahhh, the FRAGRANCE, Heaven!

I heard the Old Man’s yelling, but one needs to enjoy the moment. I romped and grabbed the skeleton. Vigorously shaking the dead fish, I repeatedly threw it in the air, playing catch with myself. One can never truly appreciate the joy of a dead fish until you roll in it. So, I did. I wiggled my back on the dead carcass, taking full advantage of my long and sleek body.

The Old Man amazed me by frantically jumping over the bushes onto the sand. Yelling at me like never before, he grabbed my leash, jerked and pulled me away from my catch. I was unceremoniously thrown into deep water soaking myself and the Old Geezer in the process, but you can’t get rid of fish perfume that easy. I was magnificent!

The best approach with your human at times like this is to crouch and look humbly sorry. But this time my big brown eyes didn’t work. The drenched Old Man was colorfully yelling at high volume. His stern voice marched me back to the car. He laid out a blanket in the back seat, with all windows down he lectured me at full volume the whole way home. I didn’t care.

There was no way I was getting into the house until I was hosed down, covered in soap and my fine aroma was gone. But the memory lingers on. I was the successful hunter again. The smell and roll had helped wipe away the humiliation of the Halloween pirate suit I had been crammed into. I was pure hound again.

I hope to go back to my favorite Harbor Bay trail again someday, but I’m not optimistic. He is a bit senile so hopefully the Old Man’s memory will lapse and we can return for more adventures on this wonderfully fragrant trail by the Bay. Who knows what we might find?
Not humbled and still sniffing Rudy.

Fumingly typed by Rudy’s so-called Old Man, John Platt