Pollyanna and the Dogs of Silliness

Lyda here.

As y’all may remember, I am currently renting a room in a friend’s condo, aka Chez Disney. To say that my friends enjoy all things Disney would be to miss an opportunity to use the word “obsessed.”

Their dog - aka Disney Dog – is a springer spaniel with more enthusiasm than sense. He believes that he is the undisputed ruler, not only of the condo, but also of the sidewalk and street outside. This means that neighbors, cats, and vehicles inspire a vocal concert from Disney Dog.

Disney Dog loves the sound of his own voice. Once he starts barking, he just keeps on for the sheer joy of it. He is completely capable of barking for an hour nonstop. Yes, I timed him. His bark sounds vicious, like he wants to tear someone apart. And his bark is not worse than his bite, as I can testify from personal experience. Just a minor misunderstanding. Or two. Ouch. He really would tear a stranger apart if only we would let him.

His hypervigilance could be comforting when I’m home alone, except for his habit of sleeping in my roommates’ closet where he can’t hear the passing parade. I think he uses the closet as a quiet place to unwind a bit, the dog equivalent of smoking in the boy’s room.

But maybe he has a secret exit. Maybe when I don’t know where he is he’s off being Super Dog, cape flying.

No capes!”  

Disney Dog would not be great in a zombie apocalypse. His frenzied barking would attract zombies. He would attack any potential human allies. He would hurl himself at the first zombie he saw, which would not end well. At best, he might distract the zombies while the humans make a run for it in the opposite direction. He is no Samantha.

Did I mention that I started a Zombie Apocalypse Survival Team at work? I’ve got a nutritionist/first aid expert, a martial-arts black belt/technology expert, and a scrappy fighter/funny chick. So far. It’s important to have people you like on your team, because the post-apocalypse might last a while. And no whiners. You need funny and resourceful people. My plan is that we bug out and meet up with the Sith Master at his dad’s house, where we make a long-term plan based on the situation.

One guy told us he won’t join, because he doesn’t want to live in such a world. Instead he volunteered to be bait while the rest of us escape. And y’all thought I was weird. I think he might change his mind when the time comes, but if not, well, we’ll make sure his sacrifice is not in vain.

Did I mention there’s a TV show called Surviving Zombies? Lots of good tips there.

Did I mention that I digress…?

Now, go read this post  about a more intellectual dog, on The Velvet Cerebellum - which is an awesome blog name and has nothing to do with fabric – and laugh.

* More Wisdom from Edna Mode.

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