I've been barking a lot this week. Mr. Food Boy is out of town, so I need to protect the house. Mauly doesn't like to bark – unless a cat rambles across the yard while she is posted at the window. I think the barking bothers her ears.
I know the barking bothers Mom. She has yelled at me a few times – OK maybe more than that – since Mr. Food Boy left town. "I bet he can hear you all the way in St. Louis. Is that what you want?" she asks me.
I don't really understand her question, so I continue to bark. It's what I do after all – I am Eddie. It's funny when Mr. Food Boy says it, "That's right. You do it, because you are Eddddddie." It sounds neat and fun when he says it, so I get more excited.
Mom hasn't been saying my name like that. She yelled. She held me. She put me away in my kennel to cool off. I wouldn't let it go; there was something in the back yard, in the front yard, in the side yard and something blowing around our house – the constant Texas wind.
When Mr. Food Boy is away, I get special hearing powers. Everything bothers me whether it is the hooves from a small herd of deer grazing beside the house or it is a truck bumping down the street. I need to bark.
Mr. Food Boy calls me a chicken – no not because he thinks I'm afraid. Sometimes, it's almost as if I'm clucking, because I let these bursts of small barks out. I can't wait until Mr. Food Boy returns. He'll get to hear my complete barks, not the clucking, chicken burst barks.
Of course, when he gets home I won't have to be on alert as much. My barks will almost disappear. I'll be safe, happy and content that Mr. Food Boy is back with us. I'll keep an eye out for those darn cats thought; I may have to bark at them.
I know the barking bothers Mom. She has yelled at me a few times – OK maybe more than that – since Mr. Food Boy left town. "I bet he can hear you all the way in St. Louis. Is that what you want?" she asks me.
I don't really understand her question, so I continue to bark. It's what I do after all – I am Eddie. It's funny when Mr. Food Boy says it, "That's right. You do it, because you are Eddddddie." It sounds neat and fun when he says it, so I get more excited.
Mom hasn't been saying my name like that. She yelled. She held me. She put me away in my kennel to cool off. I wouldn't let it go; there was something in the back yard, in the front yard, in the side yard and something blowing around our house – the constant Texas wind.
When Mr. Food Boy is away, I get special hearing powers. Everything bothers me whether it is the hooves from a small herd of deer grazing beside the house or it is a truck bumping down the street. I need to bark.
Mr. Food Boy calls me a chicken – no not because he thinks I'm afraid. Sometimes, it's almost as if I'm clucking, because I let these bursts of small barks out. I can't wait until Mr. Food Boy returns. He'll get to hear my complete barks, not the clucking, chicken burst barks.
Of course, when he gets home I won't have to be on alert as much. My barks will almost disappear. I'll be safe, happy and content that Mr. Food Boy is back with us. I'll keep an eye out for those darn cats thought; I may have to bark at them.
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