Monday, April 04, 2005

I'm speechless

I’m still on the mend from what is truly The Bug From Hell. Unfortunately, something new cropped up yesterday morning after I’d taken the dogs out and finally discovered where the newspaper had been thrown this time.

I yelled for Tank and the Wonderdog as I opened the door to go back inside. What came out sounded like it had come from a pubescent boy. By noon when I took them out again although I hadn’t said another word aloud until then . . . shocking silence total and complete.

It’s startling to suddenly NOT hear your own voice, especially when it's always automatically been there to call the dogs in, or call them to go out, or cuss when you drop something messy on the kitchen floor.

Tank’s adjusted quickly and quite well. I clap my hands together and he comes to see what I’m doing. After that it’s hand signals he’s used to.

The Wonderdog, on the other hand, isn’t. He flies from the living room when I clap, heads out the door when I motion for him to do so, and that’s as far as it goes. Once he was outside, fergitaboutit. It’s anyone’s guess.

It’s not that he listens to me well to start with, but now I don’t even have a voice for him to ignore.

Just when I finally decided to say the heck with it and leave him outside yesterday afternoon (It’s not like he’s going anywhere. The yard is fenced and as an added precaution, the gates are secured with bungee cords.) Wonderdog dashed up and sat just like he’s supposed to do, waiting for me to tell him "IN!.

I did, but nothing came out.

By now I knew that my voice was completely gone but did that stop me? No.

Exasperated, I again said "IN!"

Nothing. Did THAT stop me? Nah.

So there I am turning red in the face repeating myself . . . repeatedly, despite the fact I know not a word is coming out or will, and there’s the Wonderdog staring at me with his head cocked, obviously trying to figure out what the HELL I want him to do.

I finally just grabbed a treat from my jeans pocket and pitched it through the door into the kitchen.

THAT he understood.

I’m still "speechless" today, although I can squawk a little. If I lower my voice enough, I can actually get a few words out here and there.

I just wish the Wonderdog would stop grumbling back at me like we were having a conversation, or barking at me like I’m trying to pull a fast one on him by hiding a chicken in my mouth.

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