In Which the Damned Dog Makes Me Look Bad…

It was bound to happen.

See, Geoffie is a bad dog.

I mean, I love her, but she barks at everything, doesn’t listen, and you have to call her like you’re summoning Beetlejuice. “Geoffie Geoffie Geoffie!”  You only say it once, she doesn’t appear.


So we were walking at the park, and we met a frequent flier.

People like to talk and say hi, and they would, I think, not mind talking to ME, except almost uniformly, Geoffie scares them off.

She’s just so LOUD.

So this older guy (I say conveniently ignoring the fact that all my grays are showing and my face is not aging well) is walking his graying Chihuahua–a bigger one, like twice the size of Gibbs. We meet him all the time, and Geoffie barks and sometimes they touch noses and sometimes she barks her ass off.

And in the past, when she’s done this, if I’ve let her go after a couple of meetings, she will make a friend. There will be some chase, some barking, some playing, some fun, and then she’ll come back, I’ll put her on the leash, and she will trot proudly, tail in the air, because SHE has deemed herself the cutest one of all.

So I asked the guy if we could try it this time, too, and he said yes. I think he wanted a walking buddy and we see each other all the time.

How bad could it get?

Oh, Geoffie, you are a BAD DOG!

She went charging for this poor old Chi-hound, who turned around and ran in the other direction and then swung around her master and almost took him out! Like an ATAT in Empire Strikes Back– and on the one hand it would be EPIC but on the other, OMG, GEOFFIE! GET BACK HERE! And then, embarrassingly enough, I had to summon her like Beetlejuice.

“Geoffie Geoffie Geoffie!”

I put her on the lead in complete mortification. “Oh my God! I”m for sorry! That’s the only time that hasn’t worked ever!”

“It’s okay. She was just asserting herself.”

“Yes, she was. She is a BAD DOG.”

Geoffie just looked at me, smiling, tongue out. She had CHASED the interloper, and she had TRIUMPHED!

Oh my God!

I’m so lucky the guy was nice.

I”m so lucky his dog was fifteen pounds instead of fifty!

I’m so lucky the Beetlejuice thing works and she didn’t go kiting off into the wilderness to take down a pit bull!

Augh!!!! GEOFFIE!

So anyway, I woke her up to take this awful picture for this blog post, and I don’t even feel bad. Take THAT you terrible miniature hound!

It’s at least as bad as you made ME  look!

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