I doggie-sat my Much Older Brother’s dog Joy last Sunday afternoon while him and my sister-in-love went on a date. Joy was not a happy miniature dachshund Sunday. He was homesick for his daddy and mommy from whom he is rarely away.
Yes, Joy is a male dog. He has some gender identity issues. Joy is typically recognized as a girl name, yet this is what my sweet sister-in-love insisted on naming her little male dog. He has been neutered and is treated like a princess. The poor baby cried for almost the whole seven hours he was here. I tried to pacify him. I held him, made him a warm blanket by placing a heating pad between blanket layers, talked soothingly to him, stroked him gently, but to no avail. He sat in front of the door and cried for his parents all afternoon.
Oscar tired to coax him to play by nudging him with his snout.
“Come dear cousin and romp with me through the living area,” Oscar said in his fine highbrow British accent.
“I can’t because I am too sad,” replied Joy in his prim Margaret Thatcher voice. “See my eyes. They are pooling with tears.”
“Get over it man, your daddy and mum will return shortly,” demanded Oscar.
“I fear that I shall never see them a gain,” Joy cried plaintively.
“Mother, Mother, whatever shall we do with this distressed doggie?” Oscar asked.
“Dear, we must be patient with him. He is not often away from his daddy and mum. Think how you should feel if left with others unexpectantly,” I replied in my best English accent.
“Yes, well I see. I shall try to do my duty unto him whilst he is here. I shall sit by him and give encouragement,” said Oscar. “Chin up old boy, mum and dad will return shortly and you will be more a man from this adventure.”
“Yes, I suppose I shall,” replied Joy his voice trembling as he spoke, “Though it is very taxing on my delicate system to wait for their return and I fear something shall happen to them.”
“Nonsense. Nonsense boy. Why any moment now you shall see the lights of their motor car shining through the glen,” Oscar encouraged. “Be brave lad, be brave.”
“Might we offer you a bit to eat or drink, dearest Joy?” I asked.
“No thank you auntie dear, my tummy is much to upset,” said Joy, “I shall just set here and wait and if I cry a bit here and there, please excuse my poor manners. Sniff, sniff. I shall be fine.”
“Oh look, look boy! I believe it is your Daddy and Mummy. They have returned!” Oscar yelled excitedly.
“Oh Mummy, Daddy, I thought I should never ever see you again! Please take me home from this horrid place and never ever leave me here again,” begged Joy. “We live in a much more civilized world than these beasts. You will need to wipe my feet, brush my teeth, give me a bath, spoon feed me, place clean sheets on my bed and bring me a cup of warm beef broth before I shall be able to sleep this very evening.”
“Good-bye dear Joy,” Oscar and I called into the night air. “We shan’t miss thee one bit,” whispered Oscar.
“I shall retire to bed dear mother. May I now stop speaking in this proper English voice?” asked Oscar.
“Heck yeah! What made you begin talkin’ like that anyhow?” I asked.
“Oh yaw know how hit is with some of them high fluttin relatives visit, you have to put on hairs.” said Oscar.
“I know, believe me Oscar, I know. Goodnight sugar booger.”
“Night Maw.”
Be Yourself This Thanksgiving! Do not go putting on hairs. ;)
Thanks for reading, Rosie.
Yes, Joy is a male dog. He has some gender identity issues. Joy is typically recognized as a girl name, yet this is what my sweet sister-in-love insisted on naming her little male dog. He has been neutered and is treated like a princess. The poor baby cried for almost the whole seven hours he was here. I tried to pacify him. I held him, made him a warm blanket by placing a heating pad between blanket layers, talked soothingly to him, stroked him gently, but to no avail. He sat in front of the door and cried for his parents all afternoon.
Oscar tired to coax him to play by nudging him with his snout.
“Come dear cousin and romp with me through the living area,” Oscar said in his fine highbrow British accent.
“I can’t because I am too sad,” replied Joy in his prim Margaret Thatcher voice. “See my eyes. They are pooling with tears.”
“Get over it man, your daddy and mum will return shortly,” demanded Oscar.
“I fear that I shall never see them a gain,” Joy cried plaintively.
“Mother, Mother, whatever shall we do with this distressed doggie?” Oscar asked.
“Dear, we must be patient with him. He is not often away from his daddy and mum. Think how you should feel if left with others unexpectantly,” I replied in my best English accent.
“Yes, well I see. I shall try to do my duty unto him whilst he is here. I shall sit by him and give encouragement,” said Oscar. “Chin up old boy, mum and dad will return shortly and you will be more a man from this adventure.”
“Yes, I suppose I shall,” replied Joy his voice trembling as he spoke, “Though it is very taxing on my delicate system to wait for their return and I fear something shall happen to them.”
“Nonsense. Nonsense boy. Why any moment now you shall see the lights of their motor car shining through the glen,” Oscar encouraged. “Be brave lad, be brave.”
“Might we offer you a bit to eat or drink, dearest Joy?” I asked.
“No thank you auntie dear, my tummy is much to upset,” said Joy, “I shall just set here and wait and if I cry a bit here and there, please excuse my poor manners. Sniff, sniff. I shall be fine.”
“Oh look, look boy! I believe it is your Daddy and Mummy. They have returned!” Oscar yelled excitedly.
“Oh Mummy, Daddy, I thought I should never ever see you again! Please take me home from this horrid place and never ever leave me here again,” begged Joy. “We live in a much more civilized world than these beasts. You will need to wipe my feet, brush my teeth, give me a bath, spoon feed me, place clean sheets on my bed and bring me a cup of warm beef broth before I shall be able to sleep this very evening.”
“Good-bye dear Joy,” Oscar and I called into the night air. “We shan’t miss thee one bit,” whispered Oscar.
“I shall retire to bed dear mother. May I now stop speaking in this proper English voice?” asked Oscar.
“Heck yeah! What made you begin talkin’ like that anyhow?” I asked.
“Oh yaw know how hit is with some of them high fluttin relatives visit, you have to put on hairs.” said Oscar.
“I know, believe me Oscar, I know. Goodnight sugar booger.”
“Night Maw.”
Be Yourself This Thanksgiving! Do not go putting on hairs. ;)
Thanks for reading, Rosie.
5 comments:
I LOVE it!
Especially the English accent...and the change at the end! LOL
Thanks Paige. It is a sad life I lead laying around with doggie conversations going on in my head. Just had to share!
You are too funny! One of these days, I expect to see your work published! I hope you will remember us "little" people when you are on your world book tour!
Have you checked out "The Truth Project"? I think it is distributed through Focus on the Family and it would be a great addition to your History lessons you guys are listening to. These are on DVD and I promise Carter and Isaac and most likely, you and Tim will all enjoy it.
I'm not even a history buff, but I was really into it.
Dar
I will not be going on any world book tour without you and "A" missy! I can't even get to Hawaii when a trip is given to me.
And you dont' think you can write?!?! YYA
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