This week's "Public Notice" is all about that animal urge. Woof!
The underlying significance of that global megahit never hit home so much as when we finally adopted dogs and they did indeed get out during a recent party. Fortunately for us, the babe who secretly absconded with our diposable Kodak Max for a naughty clandestine photo party joyride, snapping funny drunken pics of this (toilet) and that (out of focus nostril) and those (Thanks for the mammaries!), could also wolf whistle like nobody's business. And by "wolf" we do not mean "vwrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppp wwwrrrrroooo!" that ever-obnoxious trill so often associated with the name. No. We mean wolf, as in canine, as in herd the flock and raise the dead. The girl's from Oklahoma, and yee-haw, boy, can she whistle. Good thing, since the perro in question is quite the scoundrel absconder himself. It took only one tweeet from the sweet lips of one Okie to send our German Shepherd bounding over six 6-foot fences in her direction and ultimately to safety.
Who Let the Dogs Out?
Then next time the Man (the name of our German Shepherd is "the Man") made it out of the front door, we had no whistling Midwestern heroine to fall back on. So, the boy joined us as we raced out the door, across the street, into the neighbor's yard, back out onto the street and across it again, into numerous other neighbor's yards, and finally south, as the Man beelined it for the dreaded whizzy busy drive time avenue a block away.
We screamed for him: "Man!!!" "No! Man!!!" as he crossed the harrowing highway. He came to a dead halt. Fortunately, a driver saw him, skidded, and missed -- so it wasn't really a dead halt, but it was quite the deer-in-the-headlights moment nonetheless. We bolted as best we could back to the house to fetch the car, assigning junior the task of keeping up with the Man as he made his way slowly back in to the relative quiet of our neighborhood. We don't remember running actually, though we know we did and dismissed it as one of those "mom finds child under car and can suddenly lift two tons of steel"-type of adrenal moments.
When we drove up the street parallel to ours, we saw the Man in the firm grip of the boy, safe in his care, waiting, panting, for a ride home. He hopped in the back seat with an innocent smirk on his pointy snout as if nothing had happened. We visualized whirled shepherd.
For the love of dog.
As the Man slid into the front door of the house, his usual partner in crime, a miniature poodle-X named "Chico" greeted him, hopping up and down on all fours and taking in a few whiffs of ever-elusive freedom.
At Our Core, Animals