Dudley Has Questions

A Lab Looking for Answers (Fiction, with real-life events sprinkled in for good measure.)

My lab, Dudley Sunny Snow, is a sensitive boy.

He has golden eyes that stare straight down into your soul.

He’s a calm little guy that loves to sit on the porch and watch the world traipse on by.

Every now and then, when he has questions on his mind, he will hop up into a chair to sit beside me.

The nimbleness required to do this without turning over the chair is wild.

My last lab couldn’t have done that. He would have just dragged the chair out into the yard, torn it limb from limb and peed on it.

But, Dud’s different.

He doesn’t tear things up. Or, dig holes in the yard. Or, growl at people.

In a lot of ways, he functions more like a human than a dog, and when something’s gnawing at him, I can tell.

He’s looking for answers.

A few days back, while sitting on the porch marveling at how quickly pollen can color the world a mustardy shade of yellow, he popped up beside me with a golden stare and a fresh round of questions on his mind.

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Me - Hey Dud, what ya’ got, bud?

Dud - Pops, you know those words you use when you watch those bouncy ball games on that screen?

Me - I do.

Dud - I was just wondering why you shouted them at that nice man in the woods? He was only making more sticks for me to play with.

Me - Well, Dud, that guy wasn’t thinking about you. He was ripping up those trees so he could sell the timber, and I was just making sure he was legit. For some reason, he didn’t appreciate my line of questioning and got a little persnickety.

Dud - Did you find out if he was legible?

Me - Legit. It means on the up and up, and no, not really. We just cussed a bit, stared at each other for a minute, spit a few times, and let it be.

Dud - I do like all of the new sticks lying around.

Me - I thought you would.

Dud - Now, back to that bouncy ball thing you watch in the wintertime. All those people running around, crashing into each other and acting like that bouncy ball is made out of bacon or something. What even is that?

Me - That, Dud, is basketball. We play it in the driveway sometimes. Remember? I always compliment your rebounding skills. You just need to pass more. You can be a little selfish when you have the bouncy ball.

Dud - I guess, but I still don’t understand why all of those humans sitting around the sides aren’t chasing the bouncy ball? Are they stupid or something?

Me - Well, sure, some of them are, but they can’t. That would interrupt the game on the floor and those people pay lots of money to sit and watch those games.

Dud - Why would anyone want to sit and watch a game when they could go outside and play one instead?

Me - That, Dud, is a good question. A very good question, indeed.

Dud - You sure get worked up watching that stuff.

Me - Yes, sometimes I get a little angry at things I see happening on the court.

Dud - But, you shouldn’t. You get all red-faced and your blood pressure goes through the roof, and that bothers me. You scare me sometimes.

Me - I know I shouldn’t, but Dud, when a guy dribbles the bouncy ball off of his foot with fifteen-seconds left and we’re only down one, I just can’t take it. Down one and he dribbled it off of his shoe, Dud. His damned shoe!

Dud - Okay, okay.

Me - Sometimes, I just want to sit with that anger, Dud. Just sit with it and stew in it. But, don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I’m just mad.

Dud - I can tell. I would rather you watch that other bouncy ball thing. The one with that team with the cool name. Liver something or other. It reminds me of liver treats. I love liver treats.

Me - That’s soccer Dud, or, futbol. We like to watch our favorite team, Liverpool.

Dud - I think I like that bouncy ball game better.

Me - You like it because it’s played on grass.

Dud - I think all bouncy ball games should be played on grass.

Me - Most are, but you’re forgetting about tennis. You love chasing the green bouncy balls around the court.

Dud - Good point! Okay, so what about the guy that comes over sometimes and never pets me? I mean, like ever. Who is he?

Me - Well Dud, that guy is my brother, and I’ll just go ahead and say it… he dumb. No, I’m kidding. He’s just not a dog person.

Dud - WHAT?

Me - Don’t take it too hard, Dud. He can get all worked up and googly-eyed over a slobbering little baby, but…

Dud - Ooh, I too, so love a slobbering little baby. They smell like milk and apple sauce.

Me - I know, I know you do Dud, and I do too. But, for some reason, my bro just isn’t the type that can get all down in his feelings with the canines.

Dud - You know, I don’t really think I can get down with his type either.

Me - Understood.

Dud - All right, This one, I’ve been wanting to ask for a while.

Me - Okay, let’s hear it.

Dud - So, why don’t we go to those drive-thru food places more often. I say we should go to one every single day. I love those places, and I love those people. They always give me stuff. Like a tasty treat, or a chicken nugget or even one of those pup cups filled with cool whipped cream to tickle my tummy. Oh, and that one lady even gives me animal crackers. Can you believe that? Animal crackers? I like the cats the best.

Me - I bet.

Dud - And, the giraffes. I like to bite off their heads. Oh, and the donkeys, I love…

Me - Okay, Dud, settle down, and let me answer the question. We try not to eat drive-thru food, as you call it, too often. That stuff is not very good for you. It can make your tummy feel bad

Dud - Oh, it never makes my tummy feel bad.

Me - Yes, I can see that, but hardly anything makes your tummy feel bad. Not even cat poop.

Dud - Hey…

Me - It’s true. You have a thing for feline feces.

Dud - I can’t help it, Pops. The smell just draws me in. I don’t know why but it’s just so hard to resist. Must be one of those things you said was inane, or uh, insane.

Me - That’s innate Dud, but I guess inane and insane would work too. You just have a pestering proclivity to eat things off of the ground you shouldn’t. Bird poop wasn’t meant for eating.

Dud - I know, but I always think they put it there just for me.

Me - Just try to use a little discernment.

Dud - Okay… there was something else I wanted to ask… oh yeah, the other day, when Mom asked you to come outside and you went a little ape shi… um… crazy on that little squirmy thing on the driveway. I saw what you did to it and that wasn’t very nice.

Me - I know Dud, but that little squirmy thing was a snake. A baby snake, but a snake none-the-less. You should know that I have absolutely no control over what I do when I see one. They scare the absolute shit out of me.

Dud - Hmm… you could have just left it alone.

Me - I could have, but that was a dangerous one. You need to stay away from those. They can sneak up on you. One night a few years ago, I walked into the garage and found myself face to face with a huge snake on top of a tall box, trying to get to a bird in a nest.

Dud - What was he doing? Was he going to eat it? A bird? Yuck!

Me - Yes, yes he was, but I didn’t stick around to watch.

Dud - What did you do?

Me - Well, I ran out of the garage and down the driveway screaming those words I use when I’m watching bouncy ball games, and then steered clear of the garage, and the neighbors… for a very long time.

Dud - Okay, can we talk about the zoomies for a minute?

Me - Sure.

Dud - You know, the zoomies are just… exhilarating. They make me feel so good. The hackles on the back of my neck stand up and I get all tingly.

Me - I can tell.

Dud - But, you and mom always seem to get a little peeved when I get zoomy, ‘cause I mess up the plants and all.

Me - Your mother does a lot of work on those flower beds.

Dud - I know, but I just can’t help myself. It feels so good. You should try it.

Me - I have other ways to feel good, Dud.

Dud - Yeah, I know. I also know that a bottle of wine sure gets you and mom feeling pretty chummy… and maybe even a little zoomy. Dogs don’t need artificial stimulation. We can get good and wound up without all that.

Me - Well, I guess, but it usually takes your mom or I saying the magic words.

Dud - You’re right, but when you guys say, “I’m gon’ getcha Dud!” Man, I really believe you are gonna get me. Every single time.

Me - The zoomies are fine on occasion, just watch out for the plants.

Dud - I’ll try but I can’t promise anything. I’ll do better with the plants if you guys stop shutting me out of the bedroom.

Me - Well, we have to do that sometimes. It’s for your own good.

Dud - Yeah well, you don’t do it near as much as you used to.

Me - Hey…

Dud - What are you two doing in there anyway?

Me - Just straightening up the room a bit, that’s all.

Dud - Um hmm… seems a bit selfish to me… but, what do I know?

Me - You know a lot Dud, a whole lot.

Dud - Thanks Pops. But, there are also so many things I don’t know. Like coding, and quantum physics, and gene sequencing, and why that punk dog down the street attacked me two different times!

Me - Yeah, I can’t help you with the first three, but the dog down the street was just a straight up bitch. I hate to say it, bit it’s true.

Dud - And, why isn’t every yard filled with bouncy balls? And, why don’t we have a pool? And, why does the doctor stick his finger…

Me - Okay Dud! Yeah… we’ll talk about some of those another day.

Dud - All right, well, what’s up with that stuffed toy dog you guys brought home? It’s kind of creepy. He looks just like me.

Me - It’s just something for you to play with, but I saw what you did to it the other day. Talking about not nice…

Dud - What? What did I do?

Me - You tried to… uh, um, lets just say you treated it very poorly Dudley.

Dud - I did? Dang! I don’t remember doing that. But, I don’t remember a lot of things you say I do.

Me - Trust me on this one.

Dud - Okay, here’s the last one for today. When we go out to a festival or a brewery, why does it always seem like I’m the life of the party? Why do they think I’m so special?

Me - People like you, Dud. You’re handsome, and you’re sweet, and you’re soft.

Dud - Yeah, I know that, but… so many hands rubbing on me, and patting me, and little kids putting their sticky hands on my face, and staring at me, and poking me, and yelling in my ear and telling me I’m a good boy. How do they know I’m a good boy? I could be a bad boy doing zoomies all over the flowers. They don’t know.

Me - They can just tell by your sweet face, Dud. They know you are a good boy.

Dud - Well, apparently the dogs don’t think that. Those fools are crazy. I mean, a sniff of my butt or a lick on the face is fine, but all they want to do is bark. Bark, bark, bark. Then, they nip at my tail or my ears and act all big and bad. Even, those little bitty baby bruisers start frontin’ on me.

Me - They’re just jealous of the attention you’re getting, that’s all.

Dud - I guess so. Well, that’s all I’ve got for now. Wanna go fling the frisbee so I can make some acrobatic catches? Those hounds next door love to watch me run. And, then, maybe I can get one of those big pizzle things for being such a good boy. I love pizzles. What are those things anyway?

Me - Um, just a snack, Dud, a snack for dogs. Let’s go find the frisbee.

Thanks for reading!