Me and Bowser have been a team since
birth. At first, Bowser used to call the shots
because I was kind of runty. He would drag me around wherever he
felt like, shake me from side to side, and sometimes even chase
me. I had to teach him who was boss.
It happened this way. We were lying on the
porch when the mailman approached with his sack of mail.
"Let's bite him!" I said eagerly. "C'mon! C'mon!"
"Nah," mumbled Bowser lazily. "Wanna sleep."
"Oh, hurry up!" I urged. "He's almost here!"
Bowser just yawned.
Then I remembered something. When Bowser was happy,
he would swish me from side to side. It was darned annoying, let
me tell you, but I thought I was getting the hang of it. So,
what if I swished him for once? I tried it. He yelped.
"Ok," I ordered. "Get that mailman!"
"Yelp!" protested Bowser.
I did it again. And I remembered what it was called:
wagging. This time, Bowser jumped up and assaulted the mailman. What a
trip! It was fantastic! And since I was strategically located
behind Bowser's rump, I didn't even catch any of the mace.
The wagging worked great. There was another time
when Bowser wanted to eat meat off a bone. Eeuw, gross!
"What do you think you're doing?" I asked.
"Gonna get that bone," said Bowser.
"I don't think
so!" said I. (wag, wag)
"Aw, why not?"
whined Bowser.
"It's the dry, packaged stuff from the supermarket
for you!" I told him.
"Yuck!" complained Bowser. "That stuff is gross.
Meat is tasty and nutritious."
"Who told you to think?" I inquired. (wag, wag) "You
don't know where that's been. The dry stuff is more sanitary."
"But the store-bought stuff is tasteless," Bowser
persisted. "I want the meat!"
"No," I corrected, "you don't want the meat. I'll decide what you want, thank
you very much. That meat stuff is vanity food. All the other dogs eat
the dry, bagged store stuff."
And I gave him a good, hard wagging.
Me and Bowser are a great team. He does everything I
order him to.
