Togo Goes Wild

On most days, I enjoy the rewards reserved for model citizens. I am polite. I wag my tail. I even do tricks. Sit. Lay down. Paw. 

And I get treats.

Occasionally, I’m not perfect. Like when I tried to take off Daddy’s arm just below the elbow.

Or that time he was wearing that long winter scarf and I decided to grab it and run. Honestly, I didn’t know it was wrapped around his neck. We were both very surprised.

On really rare occasions, I might go a little too far in my fun-making. Like the time I swiped that little girl’s purse with all the dolls in it and ran for the flower bed. You should have heard all of the squealing as Barbies flew hither and thither. Admittedly, some of the squealing was from the little girl’s younger sister who I accidentally flattened on my way to steal the purse. That was unfortunate. But it did provide a nice diversion. Daddy couldn’t decide whether to stop and unflatten Sister or to chase me to get the purse. From my vantage point behind the nandina bushes, it was all quite invigorating. Although, in the end, I didn’t get to keep the purse.

I like to think of that last little episode as a learning opportunity. 

I’ve also learned that Daddy is somewhat old-fashioned. In addition to not being the best conversationalist and being mostly out of fashion, he is pretty boring. That’s why I stopped by the convenience store and picked up an adult beverage for him one day.  

He never got around to drinking it. Mainly because he never got around to catching me so I could give it to him. Momma says that he is a “teetotaler” and wouldn’t drink it anyway. I looked that word up on the interweb and it means that Daddy doesn’t drink alcohol. I’m glad. I’ve watched enough TV to know that drinking wouldn’t make him a better conversationalist — or a better dresser.

Besides, I don’t want Daddy to change. Next to him, I always look like the life of the party.