Illustration by Jan A. Igoe
If the refrigerator is empty, it’s really no big deal when you’re single. There’s probably a half-eaten box of Pop-Tarts you bought during the Carter administration somewhere around. Even if you can’t find it, you can survive on boxed wine until the spirit moves you to go grocery shopping again. However, should you run out of pet food, you’ll crawl to the store before confessing to those hungry, soul-piercing sable eyes that you’ve failed them.
When you own several canines, keeping them fed also prevents you—their delectably juicy owner—from resembling a standing rib roast. So there’s that. Being outnumbered 4:1, I’d rather not strain their loyalty.
My dogs usually dine on a homemade crockpot of meat and vegetables that has them drooling before I can plug it in. And they have lots of stuff to chew, like those insanely priced elk antlers. (You could buy the whole elk for what one antler costs if you knew a large-hoofed-mammal dealer.) But no matter what’s on the menu, our newest pack member always demands a crunchy electronic device for dessert.
Rebel is a mini Aussie. I know I needed another dog like a hammerhead needs a Harley, but mid-pandemic, when distractions were scarce, it seemed like a swell idea. But Rebel is not a normal dog.
Aussie intelligence is off the charts, so they require constant challenges. They’d be satisfied with a few hundred sheep to herd or some corporations to take public, but you leave them unsupervised at your own peril. Their gym and library memberships must be kept current. Lately, Rebel has shown an affinity for Eastern philosophy and quantum physics when he’s not watching C-SPAN.
While masquerading as an ordinary puppy, Rebel has eviscerated several remotes and made off with my Roku, among other escapades. For weeks, I monitored all his favorite hideaways and settled for watching TV on a 15-inch computer screen, but never found the remote. Finally, I relented and bought a new one for the same price as an elk antler.
It looked identical to the Roku that vanished, but on closer inspection, the new one was missing a feature I really liked. There’s no on/off button for the TV. It’s gone. Some Einstein eliminated it, which probably saved them 2 zillionths of a cent in manufacturing costs while making me nuts. (More nuts.)
So instead of one remote to pilfer, now Rebel has two. I tried hiding them in a plastic storage box, but even dumb Aussies can pick locks, so defeating a Rubbermaid container wasn’t much of a challenge. I tried hiding the new Roku on the mantel behind the TV, which should have been easy for me to remember. Nope. By the time I went looking for it, I completely forgot I’d hidden it and blamed Rebel for stealing it. Unfazed by enhanced interrogation techniques, he refused to give up its location. I searched the house a few dozen times to no avail and finally, reluctantly, bought my third Roku.
A few weeks later, I found its dusty predecessor on the mantel. Of course, I apologized to Rebel, who was indignant and threatened a defamation suit. Standing there with his paws laced across his chest, his furry foot tapping and head nodding with disdain, he made a few nonnegotiable demands.
I’ve agreed to supply all the fresh antlers he can gnaw. Rebel will get his own smart TV—yes, with Roku—and an iPad. I’m still researching sheep dealers. If you know any, give me a call.
Jan A. Igoe hopes everyone else is smarter than their pets and can remember where they put the remote. Thanks for joining the fun at HumorMe@SCLiving.coop. Rebel, Jan and their pack wish everyone a happy, healthy new year.