Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Well...HOW MUCH?

How much grief could a Copper grieve if a Copper could grieve grief?

Perhaps you remember our neighbor's dog, Copper. That's not his real name, and it has nothing to do with protecting the innocent. We don't know Copper's name, because we never hear his people calling him. Or even yelling at him. He's like a latchkey dog, on his own all the time. He thinks he lives here. He's always coming over. Watching. And most recently...

SPRAWLING ON THE PORCH!

That's right. Copper has taken over. I wouldn't be surprised if one day Juno comes out of her house for a treat of cat kibble, and when she goes back to bed, finds someone's taken her place. Huh. Paul Simon thought HE had problems with Cecilia up in his bedroom, but that can't hold a candle to the trouble Juno is going to have with Copper.

On Monday, I had a little issue with my 44 oz Diet Coke. That's a story for another place and time, but as a means of dealing with this little issue, I found it necessary to walk around the porch so I could get cell phone reception. Notice that I didn't say BETTER cell phone reception. That would imply that I had SOME cell phone reception to start with. Which I did not. Instead of telling me that my photo was in queue, my phone said in so many words: No service. Stored for later.

Wellllll...Phony Phone Phone Phone! You're gonna have to get up WAY earlier than 1:30 in the afternoon to fool Mrs. Hillbilly Mom! I just went around to the front porch to stand by the steps where I KNOW I have reception. So there!

On the way, though, I encountered Copper. Copper was flopped on the corner, where the side porch abuts the front porch. A corner where I had to turn left at 90 degrees. At first Copper just looked up at me like, "Bitch? Really?" Then he stood up and turned his head sideways like, "You're really going through with this?" Took a couple steps across the front porch. Looked back at me like, "REALLY?" Then Copper tucked his tail down between his back legs, though not curving it up under his belly like when I yell at him. He gallumped down the porch steps and went to stand near the lilac bush. Where he turned to keep an eye on me.


I stood at the top of the porch steps, holding my phone out over the drop-off (for even BETTER reception, you know) and waited a reasonable couple of minutes before I opened my GMail to see if the picture had sent to myself. I think Copper thought I was recording his trespassing behavior. He did NOT look happy. The NERVE of me to expect him to move out of his napping place on my own porch so I, the owner and occupant of the Mansion, could walk there.

Copper seems depressed. I halfway expect him to show up one day in a black collar with black toenail polish.

3 comments:

Sioux Roslawski said...

HM--Perhaps, since he's spending so much time on your property, you could set up an appointment with Copper and a pet psychiatrist.

That would be the proper thing to do...

fishducky said...

I think it's nice of you to share your/his porch with Copper!!

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
OOH! That would be worth it, just to see Copper on his back on that psychiatrist's couch! Maybe with a box of Puffs With Lotion balanced on his belly.

***
fishducky,
Well...to be honest...I'm not going to sit out there and make him leave every time he comes up on it. So Copper gets away with a lot.

My dogs are accomplices to his crimes, because Jack plays with him until I appear, and then "chases" him under his fence back home. Juno turns to look at Copper, and gives a half-hearted "woof" and comes to me like, "What are we going to DO about that dog?"