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Here's a little something that happened yesterday.
As Bouvier owners and lovers, you'll appreciate this story like no one else I know.
This morning while Daniel (my four year old son) and I were still a little groggy from a
good night's sleep, Rosie (my three year old Bouvier bitch) romped into the house just
full of beans. [Here I have to mention that Daniel received a terrific fire truck as a
Christmas present from his Great
Aunt and Great Uncle. The truck is at least 28 inches long. It is bright red with chrome
letters and chrome fixtures on the telescoping ladder. It has a very loud siren and
emergency lights that flash when the siren is activated. This wonderful fire truck is
tethered by a three foot electrical cord to a small remote control unit. By using the
remote control unit, Daniel can make the truck move forward or backward and he can turn it
from right to left. Of course, he can also make the siren roar and the emergency lights
flash.]
Today is Wednesday, trash day. Daniel, Rosie and I typically sit in Daniel's room and
watch the trash trucks pick up the recycling, domestic waste and yard waste. Its a lot of
fun and we all get excited by the antics of the various trucks. The recycling truck driver
has become our special friend: he knows all of us by name, he remembers Daniel's birthday
and he remembers that we have a big black dog who loves trucks. (I think we need to
include him on our Christmas list for this coming year.)
So, this morning I've just migrated to the kitchen to make coffee but Daniel and Rosie
have stayed behind in Daniel's room to await the coming of the trash trucks. All of a
sudden I hear a terrible crash, a siren and Daniel begins to scream.
There's another big crash, right in my office, just next to the kitchen. I reel around and
see Rosie running as fast as she can away from something terrible. She's clearly very
frightened, all 90 pounds of
her. Then I hear siren wailing.
Rosie turns the corner of the kitchen and loses her footing just in front of Daniel's
painting easel. Rosie slides into the easel, it flips over, crashes into the french
doors, but Rosie keeps running and skids right into the water cooler. The cooler goes
flying, the five gallon water bottle hits the floor. Water everywhere.
Just at this moment I see that Rosie has the tether of Daniel's terrific fire truck
wrapped around her front paw. So this terrifying siren is following her and she's getting
more and more freaked out. I fling my body at this furry projectile and dis-entangle her from the tether and the fire
truck--which by now has taken quite a beating since its been dragged across the floor all
the way from Daniel's bedroom. There are plastic chrome parts skittering around all over
the floor. I'm tummy down on the floor, just glad Rosie didn't knock the wind out of
me.
About now Daniel appears at the kitchen door crying and squealing because his fire truck
is completely demolished. Now I'm standing in the middle of the kitchen floor with the
remote in one hand and the fire truck in the other, looking very much like I just
eliminated the siren because I just couldn't stand the sound of it any more. Oh yes, and
there's a good quantity of water everywhere, chalk and erasers and paper from Daniel's'
easel are all over the floor. Luckily there are no broken bones and no broken windows:
only a humiliated dog, and unhappy boy and a woman laughing hysterically and wondering why
"everyone" thinks that being a housewife is boring.
Have a great day. I'm cleaning.
Sandra Tasca
San Jose, CA
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