Monday, September 10, 2007

You ain't nothin' but a hound dog

cryin' all the time.
You ain't nothin' but a hound dog
cryin' all the time.
Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit
and you ain't no friend of mine.
When they said you was high classed,
well, that was just a lie.

Elvis Presley -- "Hound Dog"

Miss Fontella Bass, the youngest member of the Turmanator clan, has been conspicuously absent from recent posts. Several of you have asked me about her and let me just tell you that she is EVIL. And who wants to post about evil?

'Tella (or 'Tella Monster, as she is sometimes not so affectionately called) has outgrown her precious, cuddly baby stage is now a gangly, awkward teenage mutt. Normally by this point in our relationship she would have won us over with her winning personality and loyal disposition, no longer needing the sweet puppy face and wriggly body to ensure her survival in our household. But somehow 'Tella missed this evolutionary skill and is annoying the crap out of everyone in the family.

To illustrate: a typical stroll to the car has become a scene from "Apocalypse Now".

I open the bunker door and search the perimeter for signs of the enemy. I, as Squadron Leader, give the command to "Go to the car; move, move, move!" We race to the tank and jump in with 'Tella on our tails. She's emerged from nowhere, an expert in the ways of disguise and the sneak attack. She manages to fight her way into the car; once pristine uniforms are now soaking wet and streaked with mud. As leader of this troop I am entrusted with the difficult task of removing the enemy, which involves entering the back of the van, er, tank, and yanking her out by her collar. Once I have secured the vehicle we race away with 'Tella on our tails. More than once it had been necessary for me to exit the protective confines of our mobile unit and yell for the enemy to return to her camp and get out of the road. War is hell.

To avoid having to run the gauntlet each morning we have asked (begged) Tracy to take the dogs to their pen. This, too, is a strategically timed mission. First we must ensure they eat their food, which is no mean feat given that 'Tella spends more time guarding her food from Daisy Jane than she spends in consumption. After numerous reminders to "eat your food, 'Tella!" Tracy puts her on her leash (Daisy Jane obediently responds to "Go to your pen", but not the 'Tella Monster) and escorts her, becoming filthy and wet in the process. This means that he has to take the dogs out BEFORE he changes into his suit for work. Now the girls open the front door and tentatively ask "are the dogs in their pen?".
Affirmative. Over and out.
**We really do love the little Monster, as you can see from the photo of Kate. Perhaps she'll calm down in a year or so?


Carmi said...

I love this image. You're absolutely right: what a neat coincidence!

I keep reminding myself that Frasier's a dog, and we need to accept that he'll do some bizarro things that he'll simply never outgrow.

But GOD is he lovable. He's sitting under the kitchen table now, waiting for his best friends in the world to come back from school. I love how he misses them during the day.

Anonymous said...

I am laughing soooo stinkin' hard right now. I can just see the mad dash to the car, the strategy, the screaming, and the sheer terror of dresses being lathered in Tella slobber. Just the thought of you getting out of the van and yelling at this poor little gangly devil is enough to make me giggle. This paints such a picture for me.

Love, love, love that picture of Kitty Kat Kate; I am going to have to steal it! Hope you had a fabulous weekend with the girls and got to relax and hang by the pool! Can’t wait to see you guy’s!

OldOldLady Of The Hills said...

Tella sounds like a dog that cannot be away from the humans! (lol) A delightful post! Sweet picture, too!

TheArthurs said...

That is exactly what's kept us from getting a puppy friend for our old dog/man Humphrey. I'm afraid that having just emerged from the intense fog of babies and toddlers in the house, I'll have far less patience for the awkward teenage maniac phase of raising a well-behaved adult dog. (Although, and don't tell Pat, I still found myself lurking in the Animal Rescue League section of the classifieds the other day - oh, the four-month old black lab-retriever mix was so hard to resist!)
I admire your fortitude in handling the young hound. You're a glutton for punishment, my friend!

Star said...

What a great post. I feel like I am right there in the van, er, tank. I am reading on down the line.

Dadden and Yo said...

Uh,er,well,ah,you know,we were going to come down Friday ,no ,Saturday,well ,something has come up,ya,thats it, SOMETHING HAS COME UP.

Deana said...

I wondered how Miss Fontella was doing! Growing from the sight of her. I'm sorry she is a bit of a handful. I feel so blessed, mine are so calm and not even 2 yet. Well I say calm, to outsiders or non-dog people they are awful but for Lab owners they are very very good!

You Elvis reminded me that we are doing an Elvis party at the Star Theater for dear old mum for her 60th, or 59th as she says. If you guys are in town on Friday night Oct 12th, from 7 until 10, do stop in to say hello and bring the little ones. (short people). I am having a great band that has a really good Elvis impersonator.

And people can beg your husband to be our Hospital administrator since we are once again going bellyup!