Brent the Boy Boxer Dog and the Purple flowers

Hey Folks, It’s me Brent!
The Old Lady is having a tizzy spell over what happened today. She is trying to tell anyone who will listen that she was paying perfect attention to me and doesn’t know how a thing like this could happen!
So not true! On my honor as a Boy Boxer Dog I did everything I could to get The Old Lady’s attention, to ask permission to work in the flower bed. But no! The Old Lady was busy reading “Dear Amy” in the newspaper and pondering how it is that peoples lives become so messy. Well maybe it’s from not paying attention to what’s going on around them. Maybe people wouldn’t have to write to a stranger about their trials and tribulations if they had only played more with their dogs, in the yard or taken them for a walk or let them bark all they wanted to at the garbage truck. I mean when’s the last time your dog chewed up a sofa cushion while you were sitting next to them, petting them? See, it’s when we are left alone and get bored and want attention that we chew on the sofa……well of course not that I would know about that or anything.
So the way this all started is that I happened to find the large purple flowering bush in the south east corner of the yard visually very offensive. It was just so last spring with it’s large purple flowers and green leaves. I mean what was The Old Lady thinking when she planted it there five years ago? Just because, a dear family friend buys you an expensive, exotic, flowering plant from Hawaii for your birthday, does not mean that you have to plant it, feed it and trim it regularly. Visually offensive, is visually offensive!
Well, I had had enough of all that purple and green, ugh! So I very carefully dug and snorted through the root system and removed it all in one piece. It was a great accomplishment if I do say so myself. My sister Bebe well she just stared in wonder at me and I believe I did note a mix of pride and envy in her chocolate colored eyes. So I very carefully picked up the bush at it’s base as it is not easy to carry 3 ½ ft. x 2 ft. of bush in ones mouth. You know life without thumbs, it takes some imagination at times.
Well, I was on my way across the yard toward the green recycling bin, when The Old Lady caught sight of me through the back window. Damned if that lady doesn’t sound like a ban-she when she screams at 7:00 am in the morning! Sister Bebe, who moments before had looked on as I worked with sibling pride, now slithered away from me with a look of “I don’t know who the hell he is!”
Soon enough, up runs The Old Lady yelling, “Brent what have you done?” Oh my goodness, wasn’t it obvious what I had just done? You know folks, I must admit, I have noticed that The Old Girl is a bit slow in the morning before her second cup of coffee. Well, I dropped the bush and was about to explain my new found vision for the yard when, The Old Lady took off one of her furry grey slippers and THREW it at me! Yes I said, THREW it at me! Well it bounced off my bum and landed on top of the offensive bush. For a minute the bush reminded me of a Christmas tree with purple ornaments and a furry grey angel on top.
But The Old Lady evidently didn’t have the same visual as me ‘cause there was no Christian spirit in her tone as she uttered those most cruel anti-canine words that no dog ever deserves to hear, “You’re the worst dog ever!” For a second I thought I had misunderstood her, but as I gazed into her pinched face she bent down and repeated her vicious words, “Worst dog ever!” As she said it a fine spray of saliva flew from her thin curled lips covering my mug. Well I’m thinking, just who in the dickens does she think she is, when The Old Girl straightens up and gives the command, “Brent sit!” Now after three weeks of obedience classes, I know darn well what “Sit” means, but did The Old Lady really think I was going to listen to her after all that? I mean really, come on!
So I grabbed Mr. Furry Grey Slipper off the ugly purple flowering bush and ran around the yard with it in my mouth. Around and around the yard I went like a speeding greyhound. Fast and agile I was, if I do say so myself. I caught a glimpse of my sister Bebe hiding under the picnic table, the look of admiration back in her eyes. The Old Girl, well she finally caught me with a leash and a cookie, which she never gave me. As I was being dragged back into the house, The Old Lady stopped and once again gave me the command to “Sit” in a very nasty tone, which our obedience teacher Miss Michelle said never to do under any circumstances. Hah! Guess The Old lady wasn’t paying attention that day. But I was, so I gave her a VERY defiant look, stood my ground and refused to sit. In fact I refused to sit for three days!
Yes, there was a lot of “I’m sorry” from The Old Girl, and “I was just overwhelmed by the size and age of the bush” and my personal favorite, “I shouldn’t have thrown my slipper at you, now can I have it back?” Well folks, it was a little depressing to see her continually groveling. So on day four, A.T.I. (After The Incident), that’s how I measure time now, I sat for a cookie and a pat on the head followed with, “You’re a very good boy Brent!”
But let me tell you, I still have nightmares about that day. The bush, The Old Lady, the saliva and those evil words. At times the only comfort I find A.T.I., is when I sneak off by myself to my private corner of the yard behind the rose bushes and chomp down on Mr. Furry Grey Slipper, which I keep there out of The Old Lady’s sight, and repeat over and over to myself, “You are a good boy Brent, a very good boy.”

Well folks, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it!

Love,
Brent The Boy Boxer Dog