Doggie Boarding

June 10, 2009

Call the ACLU.

Alert the International Red Cross.

Find me the website for the Geneva Convention.

Walter and I returned from our meanderings late last night and faced what someone in the prior presidential administration might euphemistically call extreme salutations or perhaps even harsh felicitations.

You see, Walter and I had been subjected to stress positions for fifteen hours (I don't know what else you would call being confined to a small space with no room to straighten your legs or stand). When we walked into the house, Willie and Teddy made us lie down in the middle of the floor. Then they slurped and licked our faces non-stop. I think the most hardened detainees can handle thirty seconds of water boarding before completely succumbing to the overwhelming sense of drowning. I didn't last seven seconds of doggie boarding before I started promising them steak tartar three times a day (or six if they wanted) and their own feather mattresses to sleep on and destroy. Who really knows the actual safe flow rate and volume of doggie spit so that the recipient doesn't drown?

To make sure we were completely compliant, they followed the lickfest with some rapid tail whipping (Willie's specialty), a barrage of jumping, circle-running, and furniture climbing to disorient us, and finished by planting themselves on our chests to immobilize us for more.

I guess there are worse things than being held prisoner by your dogs.