Wednesday, August 15, 2012



BOOGER TALES - Segment 3 (Scroll down for earlier segments)


     I ran back home to continue my case.  I considered the “everyone has a dog” strategy, but I knew that wouldn’t work; I wasn’t under the Witness Protection Program, and I had witnessed too many dogs around the neighborhood that people were hiding from Mom. 

     Continuing to methodically lay out her reasons for not having a dog, Mom’s sound reason was taking a toll on me.  She had me pinned against a wall.  I decided to take a break and spend some time complaining loudly to friends.  Maybe they could give me some ideas to penetrate her iron-clad logic.

     After a couple of weeks rest, I continued my pursuit of man’s best friend and Mom’s worst enemy.  I strongly considered the floor flop approach.  This is where you fall to the floor, and flop and thrash around wildly, interspersed with moments of loud wailing, until your Mom says, “Okay, okay, you can have a dog.”  Although this approach is very popular, I decided against it.  My back was still too sore from being pinned against the wall.

     Looking for someone with tremendous wisdom and keen insight, I turned to Ernie’s dad for counsel.  “Owning a dog is a big responsibility,” he said. “It won’t be easy for someone who isn’t responsible.”  I didn’t realize Ernie’s dad was so irrational, so I ignored his out-of-place comment and forged ahead toward my goal. 

     Mom’s favorite words were “Scat,” “Shoo,” and “Get out of here,” but I refused to leave.  I was determined to stand my ground until victory was at hand.

     If I used a little sound reason of my own, I knew I could help mom overcome her blind spot and see the real joy of pet ownership.   

     I carefully explained how caring for a dog would teach me responsibility.  Mom was overcome with mirth.  “If you take care of him like you take care of the parakeets, he’ll starve to death,” she said. 

     Not being one to give in to absolute truth, I resorted to a little adolescent diplomacy…crying, carrying-on, and threatening to run away. Seeing my level-headed approach, Mom finally agreed to give it a try.  There was only one stipulation.  She insisted that Obedience Training School be a part of the deal.  I grudgingly accepted. 

     Soon I had a shiny, black, Labrador retriever.  I named him Booger.


To be continued...check back soon



    

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