Wow, the prompt today is awesome. “Sarcastic Dog” right?
That’s funny right?
Dogs can’t be sarcastic… they don’t even have thumbs. Right?
Lemme tell you a story about Rhoda, the dog.
My wife and I were married in 1974. She came with a dog. You guys know the drill right? “Love me, love my dog?”
The dog’s name was Rhoda and she was a black lab mix.
If I came home from work and hugged my wife the dog would get in between us. Separate us. Try to keep us apart. She would say things like, “Stay away from her till you’ve got something to offer. You’ve been at work all day. Why are we still poor?”
Eventually though, I won her over and she began to pick on Edna, my wife.
One night Edna and I were going out to a big soiree that my boss was having – real fancy do, right. When Edna was ready to go she came out to the living room, where Rhoda was sitting on the couch (as bad dogs are wont to do). Rhoda looked at Edna, then looked at me, then looked back at Edna, turned to me and said, “Well that’s a real waste of makeup.”
Then she snickered. Yeah, she snickered. Bad dog, right?
Sometimes it wasn’t so much what she said as how she said it.
Like the time I forgot my anniversary and Edna cried.
“Good boy,” Rhoda said to me, “who’s a good boy then?”
Then there was the time I came back from a business trip. Two weeks on the road and when I got home I leaned down to scratch Rhoda between the ears, “Hey girl,” I asked, “did you miss me?”
“I felt so miserable without you,” she answered, “it was almost like having you here.”
That afternoon, I took Rhoda to visit some friends who owned a farm in Riverside County.
I left her there and drove home without her. As I backed the car down the drive I heard Rhoda, barking. She was saying, “Oh, this is just great. This is just what I need. Bring Milk Bones when you come back!”
I never saw her again but I’m sure that Rhoda’s in hell now because she was a bad dog and bad dogs go to hell. Right?