UPS drumsticks

by Ken Carpenter

          I have always heard about the “pack mentality”, usually in regards to dogs, but a pack of bullying humans can display it in a vastly more disgusting manner. At least dogs have an excuse, because, well, they are dogs.

          My pack of hounds, labeled so out of a term of endearment rather than breed, have one particular opinion they all agree upon; the UPS truck is the most hated object in the universe. If fifteen cats came by the fence and mooned them at the same time, the resulting uproar would not match their UPS truck ovation.

          The funny thing is, the truck goes by our house at almost exactly the same time every weekday, and if all the dogs are napping inside they will awaken and charge outside five minutes before showtime.

          It’s coming, they just know it’s drawing near, and they mill around growling and gnashing their teeth, as if they are just sure that this time the UPS driver is going to come over and offer them one of his tasty, brown-short clad drumsticks.

          They hear its unique engine music long before it appears, and the vicious yapping begins. At other times it might occasionally be possible to shut their barking up with an authoritative shout, but not at UPS time.

          Oh no, that big brown truck is obviously packing dog poison, frilly dog sweaters, smoke detectors, vacuum cleaners, shock collars, whistling teapots, electric fences and every other dog tormentor known to man or dog. They even have skateboards, the rotten bums, and cranky old men with canes!

          The driver is undoubtedly watching 101 Dalmatians as he drives, or listening to Alvin and the Chipmunks. The indignity of it all makes any self respecting dog want to chew off that bony calf that is cramming the gas pedal down like there’s no tomorrow.

          There are 701 types of pure breed dogs, and an unlimited number of mutts, and every single one hates UPS trucks and drivers. Postal delivery men might come in second, but UPS brown is to a dog what red is to a charging bull.

          It is also a myth that dogs are colorblind. They may not see them exactly the way we do, but they can tell the difference between blue, yellow and gray. They have a bit of trouble with red and green, or at least they see them differently than we do, but they darn sure know UPS brown.

          Female dog bites are twice as numerous as male bites, which comes as no surprise to me. Next time you cruise up and down the grocery store aisle, check out the other customers and try to gauge which ones would be most likely to take a chomp out of you. Yep, nuff said.

          The canine nose works one million times more efficiently than the human nose. They are darned tired of us blaming them for our flatulence too. Usually they just heave a heavy sigh, and you can tell they are thinking, “Not again, you bozo. I wish you could have my sense of smell for a day and maybe you’d start hitting the Beano and quit blaming me for everything.”

          There are about 74.8 million pet dogs in America, in 44.8 million homes. I have four so I’m above average in at least one aspect of my life.

          Well, maybe two. I probably blame my dogs for as many gas attacks as anybody. They are catching on though.

          Molly actually eyeballed me suspiciously the other day, and I’m positive she was the guilty party. I guess what is good for the goose is good for the gander, but I hate being outwitted by an animal.

         

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