I tried my best to avoid my neighbor the other day when she waved at me to come over. (I was on the phone. Legitimate excuse.) Later, when she saw me, I was saying goodbye to a friend. It was a very long goodbye.
Don’t get me wrong; I like my neighbor a lot. A whole lot. I like her whole, entire family. But I had a bad feeling when she was so insistent about speaking with me. And unfortunately, my premonition was realized when she knocked on my door yesterday morning and asked if I would please look after her “sweet little Cookie.” Little Cookie is an alligator in a Chihuahua suit. There is nothing remotely sweet about him.
I was so hopeful that little Cookie would pass over before she needed to leave town again. After all, he is 14 and he’s been on his last paw, according to his family (wishful thinking?) for years. Old age, good life…run, little Cookie, toward the light. RUN. Alas, it was not to be. In fact, it seems Cookie just had some minor surgery to improve the quality and longevity of his life. I can’t help but think every time the Grim Reaper approaches Cookie, my face passes before his eye and he pumps his dog fist up in the air and barks, NOT YET.
Fine. I’ll take care of Cookie. I’m a good sport and can’t think of one valid excuse not to care for the little monster in his home, other than the fact he is a little shit—a fact his owners seem oblivious too. And I knew the request was inevitable, since my neighbor’s son just finished his first year in college. I expected he would need some help coming home for the summer; after all, all my friends’ kids have needed help coming home for the summer. Cookie and I would only have to hate each other for a few days…or so I thought. We all know what happens when we make assumptions, right?
My neighbor wasn’t going to help her son move home from college; she was off to Poland with her husband until the end of June. I must have looked pale, because she quickly reassured me that her son would be home in 10 days to take over, that Cookie just loves us, and that it had been years since she had been home to see her family. And, of course, she offered a million times to reciprocate in a million different ways. I just told her to put the whip by the chair and we would be fine. (Not really.) I nodded agreeably, told her to have a great trip and vowed to speak with my mom once again about her ideas for starting a pet assassin business.
Yes, a pet assassin business. The business is based on the premise that you take out a hit on the pet that has always been a good-for-nothing and of course seems to be able to live forever. Maybe you marry someone, and she or he has a little Muffy that pees on your clothes on a regular basis. One phone call, some cash…and little Muffy mysteriously dies a painless death. Win-win. Even better, Cole and my mom have also discussed a branch of the assassin business that could be hired to take out good-for-nothing people. Keep a list ready—who knows when they will have a grand opening special!?
This video is from my first visit with Cookie. The video is mild in comparison to the real visit; you should have seen me trying to take Cookie’s leash off, the entire walk he snaps, growls, barks and screams. Cole will be home from Hawaii on Saturday. So welcome home, Cole! I’ve been told that little Cookie loves you best of all!
Odd Loves Company
No worries my Mom is a much better shot than the animal lover Ken in “A Fish Called Wanda,” who was trying to kill the old lady but kept accidentally picking off her dogs instead...A Fish Called Wanda – Ken vs. the dogs