bad metaphor

This weekend, Eli’s parents went out of town, so we housesat and took care of their dogs. Ever since they got these dogs, it seems as though things in the house have gradually become more…canine. For instance, Eli said when he was over there once, he reached into the fridge and grabbed some yogurt to eat. His parents laughed at him, and when he asked why, they said, “you are eating the dog yogurt!” Dog yogurt! I don’t think it was yogurt specifically made for dogs, so much as a separate tub from the yogurt the humans of the household eat.

Setting: Eli’s parents house, about 2 a.m. on Saturday. We had just gotten back from a friend’s birthday party, and Eli still had to go deliver a promotional movie he’d made for this organization. He wanted to test the movie before he dropped it off, so he put it in the DVD player. I actually heard him gasp while I was in the kitchen:

“Oh god. Oh man. I had no idea what sick, depraved stuff my parents were into…”

“Uhh…should we be looking at this?” I said, as he gestured me over to look at the DVD.

The title read: “BARKLINGTON: A Movie for Dogs.” Underneath the title, distributed evenly across the surface of the DVD, were elaborately detailed cartoon dogs of various breeds and poses, some with sunglasses, some with outfits, all in various states of frolicking, across a pastel green lawn and a crudely painted movie theater. In short, it was the most demented art I’ve seen in some time.

We put it in, and immediately one of the dogs trotted up to the TV and stared, transfixed by the selection menu, which featured cartoon bones stamped onto the screen to the sound of a doorbell ringing repeatedly. A black and white terrier casually perched atop a horse, sauntering across a hyper-green lawn. We had an errand to run, so we decided that was the appropriate time to flee the house and let the dogs watch their movie.

When we returned, the dogs were busy chewing on what appeared to be an elk femur, instead of watching their movie. Well, whatever. We each took a dog outside for a quick pee in the yard. It was cold, and I was shivering standing there, waiting for my dog to relieve itself, chatting with Eli about something when Eli looked up. He had seen some fleeting shadow out of the corner of his eye, but dismissed it initially as an artifact of poor vision. Then the shadow became more definite.

“Whoa, there’s another dog over there,” he said. I looked over. Now we had both a beagle / harrier mix, a dog who happens to have a very keen sense of smell (she had actually found a $20 bill earlier when I took her out for a walk!), and a little shih-tzu mix, who looks like an infant Ewok. Both are the opposite of intimidating, and neither dog saw the interloper at first: a big beast of a dog, probably a Doberman pinscher from the looks of him. The most unsettling thing, apart from his size, was how silent the dog was – it was as if he had materialized from the shadows of the house. He raised his ears and started gamboling towards us.

“Ahh!” I said, and one of my unfortunate instincts when confronted with something I fear is to shut my eyes, cover my head and HIDE. This is probably just about the worst reaction anyone can have, in any threatening situation, ever. Like, what is a rapist murder psycho going to do, go “RAAAR, RAAAR, hey wait a minute. Where’d that girl go? Oh well, off to the next victim.” Anyway, I need to work on honing my defense insticts. My dog finally noticed the interloper and, as he was a little shih-tzu with more balls than brains, started baring his teeth and barking at the hulking shape (the second worst reaction in this particular scenario). Luckily Eli had his wits about him, grabbed both leashes and dragged the non-demon dogs away from the hell beast, who’d decided he’d had enough of teasing the mortals – for now – and slinked off into the night.

Later, as we were pondering the appearance of hell beast, I wondered: “Did Barklington summon him?”