Shocked by my Behavior

 

              For as long as I can remember, our family had dogs.  Most of the time we had several dogs at the same time.  We had spaniels, shelties, Chihuahuas and mutts, you name it and we probably had it.  Pooches occupy a special place in my heart but there was one thing that hurt that special place in my heart...that damn invisible fence.

              Firstly let me say that this occurred during a different time in our collective timeline.  Animal rights were not nearly as extensive as they are today and we simply thought nothing of using one of those shock collars when training a dog.  So when my parents bought an electric fence, we didn’t for a second believe we were going to do any harm at all to the dog…the dog…to the dog…harm to…the dog. Stay with me.

              Our dog at the time, a mutt that was part wolf had a bad habit of digging under the fence and getting out of the friendly confines of our yard.  She’d run away get all dirty and come back and sleep until she had enough energy to do it again…say that reminds me of me in my younger days.  Anyway, we lived near a busy road and wanted to make sure nothing would happen to her so we bought this invisible fence.  The nice men who came and installed the thing were very careful to go through all the procedures step by step with us and we listened to the first three of the steps before getting a collective glazed look in our eyes and missing the last half of the instructions.

              So to get the nice men to leave us alone, we simply said ‘Got it!’ and signed the paperwork before seeing them to their Doggy Security van.  So they drove off and counted their money, all the while laughing at the stupid family with whom they had just concluded business.  My father, showing a complete lack of good judgment, hands me the collar and the batteries and asks me to get it set up.  Naturally, I reverse the polarity (ie stick ‘em in the wrong way) and almost break the cover of the collar trying to force them into the battery compartment.  Oh that silly, silly man my father is.  

              Having realized that perhaps an idiot is not able to comprehend the battery installation, he takes the collar back from me and installs the batteries properly and hands the collar back to me.

Now…let’s stop for a moment.  Everybody all caught up? Having some orange slices and getting re-hydrated? Good, because it’s important to get a couple of things clarified here…Firstly, my eyesight is bad, for those of you who have been with us for a while, you know that my eyesight is like a TRex in that my eyesight is based on movement, it’s that bad.  Secondly you need to know that on this particular invisible fence collar, there is a knob and it goes from zero to ten.  There is no eleven because Spinal Tap was busy giving a concert when we bought this particular invisible fence.  Okay, so we’re good now? Alright, here we go.

              The theory for the invisible fence is thus…collar goes on dog. Collar is turned on and set to an acceptable level so that going past the fence post gives such a shock that the dog isn’t hurt but learns not to go past the fencepost again.  Simple really.  It’s exactly like a real fence except that it isn’t.  But it’s important to get the setting right. You don’t want to hurt the pooch, but you don’t want the dog to just shrug it off either.  Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you…me…the idiot.

              Still holding the collar, I dial it to zero and strap it around my neck just in the fashion it would soon adorn our little poochie woochie.   Having put on the collar, I start walking to the fence line. I  cross the threshold of the fence and God hits me…hard…and not in a playful way.  I am looking upward as I discover that my body has been rather quickly thrust to the ground. I find myself staring into the sun and a twi….twww….twitching in my right eye that is taking a long time to stop.  My family rushes to my aid…well, that’s not accurate. My mother is genuinely worried about me and is trying to make sure I’m okay.  My sister is laughing hysterically and my father has the look of embarrassed indignation on his face, no doubt regretting continuing our species.

              My father reaches for my neck, somehow resists the urge to simply squeeze until I go away, and grabs the collar.  He examines it and quickly comes to realization that his idiot and almost blind son set the pain…sorry…training setting to ten instead of zero.  And what became of the dog, you ask? Oh he was most disturbed by my little demonstration.  As I turned my head while I was lying on the ground I saw him leap back and forth over the imaginary and invisible fence line.  Wouldn’t be the last time a dog had the better of me, but it certainly was the most painful. 

So be smart, people. Say no to electricity!

BbbbeeeeGggggooooodooorrrBeeeeeeeGoooooddaaaaaatttttItttttt!

Know Your Limitations...an Introspective

Seriously?

              For the record, I’ve always been a man who knew his limits. Oh yes, that information was relayed from my addled brain and delivered to the muscles activating and utilizing the mouth and vocal chords.  Sadly, the mouth and vocal chords have been in a nasty contract dispute with my brain so refused to obey the orders.  Unfortunately my brain, mouth and vocal chords all have the same agent so it appears as though nothing will be done to alleviate the situation.

              This condition is nothing new to me.  I remember years back when my mother had a little Chihuahua that had gotten lost out in the snow, late at night, during a snowstorm.  I, as a college student living at home, was in my natural habitat and most suitable position…fast asleep in bed. Well, my mother woke me up and, believing the little pooch was frozen to death out in the vast wilderness of the suburban neighborhood in which we lived, told me to go out and bring his little poochcicle body home.  Here’s where my limits come into play.

Go ahead, somebody move!

              While not legally blind, I do require glasses in order to see anything with any detail.  To attempt to clarify that statement, my vision is not entirely unlike that of the Tyrannosaurus Rex. Like Rexy, my vision is based almost entirely on movement.  So there I am, outside in the middle of the night, without a coat (the limitation there was that as a college student I was dumber than hell), and without my glasses (having left them in my bedroom and was entirely too lazy to go get them), outside during a snowstorm, looking for an ex-Chihuahua.

              Despite the overwhelming odds, I saw the little guy. Not only was he still breathing and prancing through the snow like a rat on Ecstasy. I called out to him and he obediently ignored me. I took steps toward him and he started to run away further. I must have chased that little dog up and down the street for a half hour. Naturally, I lost him. I went traipsing through the snow trying to find the little stinker, but to no avail.

             

      So there I was, returning home and rehearsing the words I would use to explain to my mother that her cute and cuddly little fuzzball was no more. How do you do that exactly? “Hey Mom, my it’s nice and warm in here, dog’s dead, and oh that is a lovely piece of art on the wall.” No, that wouldn’t work…use the old army joke…’All those with a dog that’s alive and well take one step forward…stay there, Mom.” No, that wouldn’t work either. 

              I walk into the house, looking dejected and defeated (a look that I have mastered without any acting effort throughout the years). There is Mom, in her comfy chair, holding the dog that had apparently returned not five minutes after I left to go look for him.  It was then that I looked at the dog squarely in the face. He smiled…no, honestly, I didn’t think a dog could do that and not appear menacing, but yes, the damn thing smiled at me. I’m quite sure if he had had a middle finger he would have extended it in my general direction.

              So, yes, I hear you. Major plot hole in my story. What the heck was I chasing out there? The timeline of his return does not jive with you out in the snow doing an abominable snowman impression.  Well there is an answer. For it was not until the next day that I, replete with glasses on, went out to get the newspaper (kids today…a newspaper was an actual collection of paper that had writing on it that communicated news that was already a day old…it predated anything electronic that supplied news the second it happens) that I saw the very brown thing I had been chasing. It was sitting near a tree and appeared to be laughing at me. Yes, it was a little brown rabbit that I had been chasing throughout the night. And yes, it was a rascally rabbit.

To a blind man, they look alike!

              I can’t watch the Cadbury chocolate Easter Eggs commercial to this day without convulsing, almost swallowing my tongue and pissing myself…on second thought, maybe I should get that checked out.  Anyway, the point is to know your limitations.  In my case, my limitations are near blindness, a terrible back, and a mild to moderate case of stupidity.

              What are yours?

Until next time, 

Be Good or Be Good At It!