The Blame Game

Passing the buck by blaming others

Mom said, “Ain’t people something, my little pups? They look you in the eye and tell you how wonderful you are and all the while they are thinking something else in that crazy monkey brain. Most of the time they just make up stories that have no basis in reality, just fantasy stuff. Stories to justify their inability to accept responsibility for their own actions.”

I’m thinking she means passing the buck, when she says just that, “passing the buck by blaming others. It is that and the ignorance of their actions that will be the demise of the human race.”

Now that worries me because without humans who will feed me and put me to bed at night? Without humans what will become of us doggies? Not even worth thinking about right now as it hasn’t happened and won’t happen in my lifetime, so why all the worry when there are so many delicious smells to investigate?

But I can see that mom is upset and when she is her mind starts going like a clock in fast time and the whole household is on edge. I become an afterthought until this all calms down and that might take awhile. People think that animals don’t remember a slight, but that’s just not true. I always remember and store the incident in my mind for the right moment to take revenge. Is that the right word, revenge, or is retribution a better word? Another animal does me wrong and I just wait for the moment their smell meets my nose and I just react, with every intention to do physical harm. Oh, I can bark at them, the way people do to each other all angry and eyes on fire; but me, I’d rather get it over with right away and let them know how I really feel.

I’ve been waiting on this one particular wild black and white cat that mom calls a skunk. Me and Seamus cornered him by the tree last spring and when I went in for the kill he lifted his tail and sprayed something right into my face, literally into my mouth, my eyes, my nose!!! I was blind and sick, puking and rolling to get if off me. Mom came running with the hose and tried to wash the smell off my face, then it was one bath after the other with all types of shampoos and vinegar, but the damage was done. I was a stinking mess and no one could come near me without holding their nose.

So I’ve been waiting for his return. A few times this past summer I caught a whiff of him passing by in the night and a growl would rise in my throat. Mom would lay a hand on my head and say she smelled it too and just let him go by, that this was not a battle I could win. Best to choose my battles and not repeat the same mistake, which I guess means she doesn’t want to live with that skunk smell again. It’s been six months and there is still a residual odor that keeps the memory alive inside me. It seems that lessons always come round again; I guess just to make sure we were paying attention the first time. Mom says the neighbors dog got sprayed by a skunk four times! In that way we are like humans, we just won’t let it go once the hate is in our hearts. Maybe she’s right, but next time that skunk crosses my path we will fight, so mom better stock up on the skunk shampoo.

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