Sisters! Well…more accurately, pack sisters!
Sometimes they get on my last nerve. On the other paw, I barely remember my litter siblings. Our lives went in all different directions in short order.
I do remember one of my litter mates. She was the largest of the eight of us right from birth. She used her girth to maneuver us away from the teats with the most milk, which added rapidly to her overall circumference.
Mom had to rescue me several times from being smothered from my sister’s habit of laying on top of us as the tryptophan kicked in. Mom would pull me out from under my sister and up into her ruff. This maneuver would cause “sis” to roll onto another unsuspecting dreamer. I often fell asleep, safe and sound, to the rustling of the rest of the litter sporadically repositioning while muttering and complaining to mom as my sister slowly rolled back and forth like some drunken slow-motion game of bowling that spared no one. Inertia made strikes inevitable.
But, I digress….
Back to my current dilemma with my pack, and more specifically, Hazel. She and I have been together, what…two, no, three years now. She had already been here a few years before I arrived. And it took a couple of days to adjust to each other and define our relationship and rank within the family pack. Over time, with opposite temperaments, we found our rhythm together, and we have each other’s back.
Mostly. Allow me to elaborate and you can judge for yourselves.
Last summer, Mom and Dad stumbled upon a YouTube video of the most beautiful dog in the whole world. I am not one to care about the “moron’s magnet” and its screen of flashing pictures. The screen shares no scent, which makes it very suspect in my opinion.
One afternoon, while enjoying the gentle wafting of my personal floor fan and dozing lightly, my curiosity was aroused by a soft-spoken voice speaking in gentle tones to a dog. I rolled slightly towards the unscented voice on the screen and beheld a thing of exquisite beauty looking up into her mom’s eyes as she spoke.
Her name is Maya (the dog, not the Mom). Maya Polar Bear. She is white and floofy and smart and has costumes and eats chicken and her eyeliner is always perfect and I just know she must have a purple tongue like me, and if she doesn’t, that’s okay, because she is perfection on paws. Did I mention her mlerms? Her mlerms are mesmerizing.
Now, this is where Hazel comes in (remember, pack sister). She writes a column too, for Prescott Dog Magazine, and has been doing it for a while now. She has a fan base and gets communication from some of them from time to time. She had writers block recently, and Dad told her to just answer some of her letters.
So…I took the opportunity to write my own letter and put it in her mail pile. I figured since she knew so many people and was a well-known columnist in her region, well, maybe she would know how to contact Maya Polar Bear.
I didn’t tell Dad any of this, I knew he would casually list all the hurdles, telling me that Maya probably lives in another country, travel would be difficult, passports, vaccines, blah blah blah. I figured I had a better shot if Hazel helped, but I completely miscalculated.
Hazel picked my “anonymous” letter about Maya for her column, but she guessed it was from me and blabbed it to the whole world. So not only was I embarrassed over this, she didn’t have any ideas on how to meet my dream-dog. To top it all off, now Kiera, my other pack-sister, teases me every time I ask Dad to find another Maya episode on YouTube.
I know I’m the sheriff of this pack and as such I should bear this all in stride, but sometimes I could just curse. (Hurry and cover the puppies ears.)
“Burnt Crackers and Dill Pickles!”
There! I said it and I’m not taking it back. Honestly, you would think your own family would take matters of the heart more seriously. Especially a sister you have a history with.
The more I think about it, the more I’m sure I’ll never speak to Hazel or give her the time of day again. I’m going to the office and curl up by Mom’s feet and just forget the whole world.
This is “sulking” Tucker signing off….
Epilogue
“Hey Tuck, You awake?”
Tucker barely opens his eyes to see Hazel’s head peering at him from under Mom’s desk. Tucker stays silent and annoyed. Kiera’s head appears and pokes through Hazel’s front legs.
“C’mon, Dad’s throwing burritos together and gravity is in our favor.”
Unmoved, Tucker closes his eyes. Hazel tries again.
“C’mon Buddy, cheese and hamburger are hitting the floor this very minute. Let’s go!”
Tucker sighs, but still doesn’t move.
“Suit yourself, Tuck. Oh, and Dad said you can have an Instagram account to send a message to Maya. I can show you how if you want.”
Tucker’s head swiftly raises up, and his eyes lock on Hazel in disbelief.
“After all, what are sisters for, Tuck?”
The sound of a semi-full plastic container of food is heard hitting the floor with a faint exclamation from the kitchen.
“Burnt crackers…!”
