Blu – The Miscreant
Since Blu became a family member his incessant chewing has driven me to the brink of insanity; to those who know me well, this point is closer than it would seem.
Blu aka Bat Dog, aka The Thief. Some days he could easily double as the bungling electrician or cat litter extraordinaire.
Blu has the innate ability to wait for that instant, a perfectly timed moment that could even be described as clairvoyant, to make his move. Be it that you’ve turned your head instantaneously, or denied him a joy ride in the car; he will take that moment and make full use of it.
I guess it could be the adrenaline that comes with finding the unknown or the ability to open the forbidden Pandora’s Box. No amount of Moelleux au Peanut Butter hooves seem to do the trick.
Without fail he will succeed or he will die trying.
With an introduction like this you must be wondering what transpired at the paws of Master Blu?
On most days Blu takes a drive with me to collect my children at school. On shopping days he has to wait at home and I reject his bouncy, breathy half-bark, come hithers. I lock the door and lo and behold the yelping begins. No – it can’t quite be called a howl. Maybe for argument sake; because I know My Boy will question my terminology; let’s call it a yowl. It’s loud; it’s obnoxious and if you didn’t know any better you would think I was committing a heinous act of animal cruelty.
I endure the yowls with a reassuring “I’ll be back soon Blu”, and I embark on a half hour to forty five minute, moms taxi, grocery shopping excursion.
Blu’s yowls translate to “You aren’t going to be back soon, I’ll be waiting here for eons! You horrid-horrid mommy you! I won’t talk to you never ever again! HMPF!”
While back at home the scene turns to slow-mo; air flowing through Blu’s now softened ears; he races swimmingly to my closed bedroom door and rams it open with one fowl swoop.
He stops, his eyes glisten at the sheer possibilities of the items he can probe from their hidey holes. The excitement overflows and he pummels in finding an extra cuttle fish for the squawkers. He rips the bag and gnaws and paws at it leaving a variation of powders and slobbery white goo prints all over my royal blue linen.
Once the fun has been exhausted, and his psychic intuition kicks in again, he waits at the door looking saintly, as I steer the car into the driveway. Even though the formerly shiny halo is now tarnished and hanging disdainfully off one ear.
The children and I enter the premises; I overlook Blu’s guise of “you’re home! I didn’t even know you were gone! I was soooo good! Look here’s my ball” playfulness; and head straight for the now open bedroom. My suspicions now confirmed, the children and I set out to rearrange the whirlpool of disorder fashioned by a small black and tan miscreant.
When the day is done and we are authoritatively not on speaking terms, he will sit quietly and cherubiously *yeah I made that word up* and cause you to overlook the days misdemeanours.
This is an in depth look at a short interval in a day in the life of Blu.
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