Dog Daze

     When poor Fleur the singing border collie died, after I had moved out of Old Joe’s, her owner Jan got a horrible little old traumatized cocker spaniel. The first time I came back for a visit, when I came in the door the new dog rushed into the foyer and set up a shrieking racket. I was trying to make friends with it, but it couldn't hear my voice; the dog just stood back and barked/shrieked without stopping. Then I gave up and turned my back on it, to greet Milt who was coming to welcome me, at which point the hideous little cur dashed forward and bit my ankle, tearing the cuff of my pants as well. I wheeled around and shouted HEY! and the cowardly little dog put its tail down and dashed away, squealing in panic like it had been scalded. Jan came running in and said “Don't hit my dog!” Of course I didn't hit it; I never touched it, and I told her so.
    I said, “Look what it did to me!” showing my scratched ankle. I should've grabbed the miserable mutt and flushed it down the toilet. It's strange that Jan would say that to me, because she knows I love animals. When I lived there, Jan used to ask me to take care of Fleur, who was a very sweet dog, and her parakeet PK, when she would be gone for a few days. I was always happy to do it. When Bob and I would sit down to play our guitars, Fleur would instantly dash into the room, plant herself in front of us, and begin howling. She seemed to feel that it was her duty to join the music. We would laugh so hard we couldn't play. I loved that dog.
    But now Jan had this nasty little new dog, and it was just a bully and a sniveling tattletale. It never did say hello to me, or apologize.