Tales of Ella the Circus Dog
2006-07-08 9:53 PM
Poodle Is Mine.
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Today I do nothing but rest up from the wild party we had yesterday. The People invited my dog friends and some dogs I did not know to come celebrate Poodle becoming mine. Officially, I mean. She has always been mine. Anyway, the guests start trotting up the driveway a few long licks before sunset, with my old friend Labrador Shepherd first. He has a summer haircut. He’s the same old clown he’s always been, and I just love him to death. We sniff and we sniff and he pees all around the yard while I follow him and watch where I’m going to have to come back and mark over. Then comes Terrier, Boston, and with her is Uncle Jerry, one of my favorites. I did not know Uncle Jerry has a dog besides me. Then comes Beagle Mix and Terrier Mix and then Jack Russell and Pomahuahua, and then Chihuahua, Apple Head—my first Apple Head up close, and she really isn’t as bad as I’ve been thinking—and then Maltese and Schnauzer-Dachshund. Maltese has on the cutest little party dress and she really knows how to prance. We all greet each other and wag and sniff and stand over and bow, and those who are in a playing mood begin to play and those who are in a begging mood begin to beg, and those who want to explore my yard do. Poodle is wearing a purple ruff that looks quite festive. Better her than me. She is a bossy hostess and drinks right out of the pool. With several of her unsuspecting guests, she exhibits the sort of rude behavior that she occasionally does with me when the People are not watching. I walk away from it. Poodle embarrasses me so.
The People have Greenies and chews and Charlie Bears on BigBlack’s table on the back patio, and someone brings out the hot dogs I smelled on the grill earlier this afternoon. One of my People stands out by the table and feeds bites of hot dogs to all the dogs who are feeling hungry. We are called by our People names, but we all respond just the same. Rebel? Hot dog. Chloe? Hot dog. Chase? Hairy? Pokey? Hot dogs. Zacky? Hot dog. Peanut? Hot dog. Girly Girl? Teeny hot dog. Bonzie? Hot dog. Rosie? Hot dog, hot dog. Brandy? Poodle gets a hot dog, too. Then, of course, there is me. Ella. Hottest dog.
We all wander and chase and beg and follow each other around. We fetch tennis balls. Several of us try to mix it up, but the People step in and keep us all civilized. Tails wag everywhere. I make sure everyone is having a good time. Poodle disappears for long stretches. I find her under the dining room table once or twice. She waits for food. Why am I surprised?
By the time the crowd thins, we are beat. Poodle sniffs at her presents one more time and hops upstairs for bed. Labrador and I follow. Nothing but snores all night. Today, I have tried to stay awake, but I am weak, and I sleep dreaming of white cake and grilled beef franks. The party is over and Poodle is mine.
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