Banjo’s Revenge

I don’t normally drink before 8 a.m. —  but it has been that kind of morning.

Getting the family out of the door for school was like the fall of Saigon. There was gnashing of teeth, screams, copious tears and the rushing to get the heck out of dodge. And that was just from my wife.  We fought to get everyone fed, lunches made, clothes put on, teeth kind of brushed and showers taken. And in the right order.

I pray my youngest son’s underwear isn’t on outside of his pants.

I, being the hero of this story and a man who generally tries to avoid pissing off his lovely wife, chipped in and tried to do what I could to help get them out the door.  Three minutes past the moment they were supposed to leave, the garage door finally closed.  Peace blanketed the house. Pip looked at me as if to say, “Um, what was that?!?”

I shrugged my shoulders and let her out one last time. I poured a tall glass of tea and joined her outside on the patio.

It was the calm after the storm.

The Robin-egg’s blue sky reflected in the puddles from last night’s thunderstorm.  Pip ran out to do her morning squirrel patrol.  We recently reloaded the bird feeders with seed, so the fuzzy-tailed rats have come back in force. Pip’s hunting skills are still a little raw, although she generally follows the same routine Banjo used to follow.  I pulled up a chair on my patio and watched the Dog vs. Squirrel show’s opening act.

First of all, the squirrel has a distinct advantage.  He can climb trees. Pip’s advantage, a hypersonic bark, really doesn’t help her much.  The squirrel would go from oak to oak, leaving Pip constantly barking up the wrong tree.  She’ll figure it out eventually.   But not today.

As she ran in circles, I thought of Banjo’s squirrel hunts.  He used to be quite fearsome — but old age caught up with him and the squirrels started mocking him. It was really sad to watch. Apparently squirrels are much like many Americans — they refuse to respect their elders.

There was this one squirrel, I’ll call him “A-hole” for short, who used to mock Banjo.  And A-hole really would tick Banjo off.  You could see ‘Jo’s little Border Terrier face contort with disgust every time the squirrel would make him look like a fool.  When I would let Banjo out, he would charge A-hole. And A-hole would leave poor Banjo befuddled.  Until one fateful June morning.

I let Banjo out the the door. He ran up the hill.  But instead of running around barking at the squirrels, he promptly asked back in. (Banjo barked at the door. Pip scratches.)

I wondered, “What’s the heck is going on?” So I opened the door, looked down and there was A-hole. And A-hole was dead as a doorknob with two bite marks on his broken neck.  Banjo had a big grin on his face.  Every dog does have his day.

I learned a couple of  important lessons that day:

1. Never underestimate your elders.

2. And every A-hole will get what’s coming to him.