Rez Dog

My dogs name is Rez. He lives with me because somebody left him on my deck last December. He's a beauty. I like having him hang around. Before Rez moved to my place, I think his doghouse was a 1972 Buick Le Sabre. The other day, when he saw the window of my 2003 Subaru Outback open, I guess he decided, “Not as good as home, but it’ll do”. So, he jumped in.

He got in there and found an unopened bag of fancy cookies that were going to be a birthday present. The way Rez had it figured it was his birthday too, so he ate most of the cookies. He wasted some, but after all, he’s not a big dog. He didn't have a use for the tin they were packed in but when he chewed on it, it made his fillings zing. The tin looks like a spaghetti strainer now.

I’m not sure what to do tonight when I park the car. Maybe I'll close the windows so Rez can’t make himself to home, can't eat up his share of the cookies, and can't get any cheap thrills at my expense. Or maybe I’ll just leave the door wide open so he knows he’s welcome to curl up on a warm seat with a snack and a toy. (With thanks to Jim Northrup, Kent Neurburn, and a host of other great writers.)