ARGHHHHHHH, SCURVY DOGS
BELLINGHAM, Washington: Edward – my pseudosib – dragged me north to his lake house, ostensibly for some R&R, following the gruesome finale of the Michelin Rome guide update.
We wandered ocean bluffs until rain saturated old Gore-tex and watched tourist slasher flicks. No amount of beer makes that summer hedonism.
I did, however, kayak every day, skimming among lilypads. I'd lean backwards and float under the fishbowl sky. And all was good, until scurvy dogs tried to board my boat.
"Go back," I shouted, as they plowed off the dock. "Nooooooo."
Smiling, they churned out 100 feet. Then the chocolate lab began lunging and scrabbling on the stern. Avast!
I glanced onshore. Yup, their yard contains a kayak. A fat-bellied thing, quite unlike Ed's narrow-prowed beauty.
More to the point, I am not a mutt-chauffeur. Nor do I want a funny capsizing story; I prefer my humiliations self-induced, thank you. And I'm a cat person. Piss off.
Wheeling, I charged towards the dog dock. Someone emerged and whispered, "here, boys". Worthless people. No wonder these animals were stowaways. They wanted to escape to a less milquetoast world, I'm sure.
Not mine, though. Hell no.
I swiveled again, close to shore. The lab lunged. I don't think so, me-bucko. I fanned water into his face. Raiders repelled. Arghhhh!
"Edward, your lake has pirates," I shouted, hauling onshore.
"Oh," he remarked, long accustomed to my hyperbole. "Ye hurt them how?"
And yet I kayak that lake all the time, and have never once had dogs try to board the boat.
ReplyDeleteCome on, admit it, you were sneaking bacon out there, and they smelled that. I knew there was stuff missing from my fridge.
Yes, yes, I did it. (wild laughter) You got me bang to rights, guv.
ReplyDeleteEver read Roald Dahl's "Lamb to the Slaughter"?
You got off light with the mere jettisoning of meat, really...
http://www.classicshorts.com/stories/lamb.html
ReplyDeletePlease don't murder ERH with a pork chop. He'd prefer an ox haunch, I'm sure.
ReplyDelete