So there’s work being done on the Derleth Mansion at a rate much improved from before, and now that things are thawing around here it looks to pick up again soon. This means contractors and sub-contractors coming around here and interacting directly with the denizens, including the Corgis who live here.
One Corgi, Scooter, is the living embodiment of ‘bless his heart’ in the oldest Southern tradition: He’s a largish adult male with the physique of a pork roast and the brains of one, too. He loves to eat any and all crap he finds outside (which once got me into a messy situation) and he has a bite reflex matched only by his laziness (leading him to once bite my foot with no further preparation beyond rolling over). He also has a very direct way of telling you when he has to pee: He humps his way across the floor, sometimes riding an invisible partner across the room. This is humping in the most canine of ways, unrestrained by any notions of propriety and probably indicating some neurological disorder.
Now Scooter had gone out not two hours prior to the subcontractor’s appearance and was in no apparent need of going again any time soon (his staring is unmistakable). So talking to the guy with a friend I had no idea we’d all be treated to a floor show. Despite the best-laid plans, here comes humpy and his bladder must be tying up all lines. I and the subcontractor attempt to ignore the Rape of the Rug while my friend leaves beet-red to laugh loudly in a bathroom. The subcontractor left a minute or so later and Scooter went out right after.
Now I have a fragment of song lodged in my mind:
“Here comes humping-dog
Here comes humping-dog
Right down humping-dog lane!”
She’s only half Corgi however. The other half is Chihuahua. Which means that the biting is preceded by much hysterical barking. At least you know it’s coming.
I meant to type ‘pot roast’ but my fingers were thinking piggy thoughts.
Speaking of ‘ottoman’: There’s an ottoman in the house, a big (well, bigger than any of the Corgis) four-legged square wooden thing with a cushion on top. It’s more than light enough to push with your legs, though, but that is something you do not do if you want Corky, our female, to stay in the same room. She is terrified of it to the point she’ll quickly and quietly run away from it if it begins to move, like a Londoner going into the Underground during an air raid. She eats in the same room as it (open floorplan) which means she’ll be wont to abandon her food if anyone gets too close to the ottoman while she’s having her meal. The ottoman is apparently a giant headless monstrosity, as opposed to a piece of furniture, and if it is moving it’s going to eat her alive.
NinetyWt: Marli is so cute! I love the tail, and I can tell she must love to play. She has the manic gleam.
Here’s Scooter, the floor-humper himself. He enjoys sleeping, eating, going outside, barking at nothing, eating, and being petted.
This is Corky, our female Corgi who is not stupid at all. She’s obsessive and aggressive and a real prima-donna, instead. She really loves to play frisbee and growl at you if you pet her a bit too long or touch her butt while you’re lifting her into place on the couch.
And this is Elwood, our newest dog (about two and a half years old now) who has lost a lot of the muscle in his head for no known reason. He’s still the same wild dog he’s always been, climbing on things to be the tallest and demanding lots and lots of love and attention. He thinks he’s the ladies’ man: As long as he can lick their ears, no lady dog can resist his rakish Dog Juan charms.
