Trevor: The Story of a Dog and His Boy

     My name is Trevor. The lady who lived with me before called me Triver, but it was a dumb name and Trevor is a bit more sophisticated. The lady was an Old Italian lady and I liked her living with me. She had wonderful big soft things on the place for sleeping. I don’t know what they were for but they sure were fun. I liked to throw them on the floor and tear them open with my teeth. There was even more soft stuff inside. Whenever I tore open the big soft things, another one appeared a few days later. It seemed like there was a constant supply of the things. The place for sleeping also had legs that were just perfect for exercising my teeth on. In the outdoors there were many brightly colored things with green stems that I delighted in pulling out of the ground. This made the Italian lady make loud noises and flap her arms. This was even more fun. Next a young lady lived with me. She had many bugs in our house. I love to catch bugs with my mouth. Sometimes I would knock over the wooden things in the house chasing the bugs. This lady would also make loud noises and flap her arms. She was very pleased that I had caught all of the bugs. Then a man came to live with me. People seem to like me so much that they want to share me. He is the one who calls me Trevor. If nothing else, at least he uses a proper name for me.

       The man has lived with me a long time now. At first he was like the ladies and would make loud noises and flap his arms when I pulled the soft things off the place for sleeping but he seems to have calmed down a lot. He is pretty good to live with. Sometimes the food is good, sometimes not. He likes to take drives in the car and boat with me. When we go in the boat, we could ride around all day and have fun, but sometimes the man takes a long stick and brings fish into the boat. I don’t know why. Only cats like fish. He is a good hunter though. Sometimes he leaves me home and goes hunting in the car. When he comes back he has meat in bags from animals he killed. It is funny; he always wraps them up in nice packages before he brings the meat home.

     I hate motorcycles. They are very loud and dirty people usually ride on top of them. I always bark as loud as possible and growl whenever I see one. One time we were stopped and a motorcycle pulled up next to us. It was a very loud motorcycle and there was a fat man on it with very long hair and beard. He was very dirty also and had a jacket with bones on it. Even though his jacket had bones on it, I would never get close to him except to bite him. I let him have it as loud as I could. He made loud noises and flapped his arms at the man I live with. Then he left really fast, so I guess we scared him good. I was proud of the man I live with. He didn’t say anything; he just stared straight ahead. He was very calm.

      I like to go to work and I work very hard. I usually relax and wait to greet the people who come to see me. When they come in the door I run up to them so they can scratch my head. I like women better than men. They are like men only usually smaller and softer and smell a whole lot better. One woman came in and she smelled really good so I wanted to let her know how much I liked her so I went up and stuck my nose in her bottom while she was standing up talking to the man who lives with me. After she left the man who lives with me made loud noises and flapped his arms. I guess he liked her also. As I said, I work very hard. I hate to say it but the man I live with is not very ambitious. All he does is look at a big box and talk into a little box all day. Sometimes he rubs his head because his head hurts. It probably would not hurt so much if he worked harder like me.

      It sounds strange, but there are scads of chickens around the place where we work. For some reason the man doesn’t want me to catch the chickens. But several times I got loose and caught a chicken. One day I caught one and pulled his tail feathers out. I laughed all week watching that chicken run around with a bare butt. If the man who lives with me would spend the day working hard chasing chickens with me, he would feel better.

     When the man who lives with me doesn’t behave properly, I let him know about it. Sometimes I dig a big hole in the path where he walks. Or else I will take a piece of his clothes and drag it out in the yard and leave it there. When I was young I used to chew up the clothes but the man would make loud noises and flap his arms. I didn’t want him to hurt himself so now I just leave it in the middle of the yard where he can see it. Once a woman came and began to stay with the man. I liked her. She rubbed my head and she smelled really good. There was a problem though. When the lady came over, the man and the woman would sleep in the bed and I had to sleep on the couch. I don’t know why he would not let me sleep with the lady also. It wasn’t that bad though, except one morning they slept in the bed and then got up and left me at home. I was really angry, so I found the lady’s underwear on the floor and took it out in the yard and stomped on it in the mud. When they came back, the lady saw what I did and made loud noises and flapped her arms. She never did come back. I guess she found a man she liked better.

     A couple of years later another woman came to the house. She was like the first one. She was soft and liked to rub my head and she smelled really good. But once again the man and woman would sleep in the bed and the man wouldn’t let me sleep with her. Women are softer than men are and much better to sleep with. One night I had to sleep on the couch and the man left the light on so I really had trouble going to sleep. I sulked awhile and then I got really angry. I got into the lady’s purse and got the little box that she talks into all the time, and I ate it. When they got up the lady made loud noises and flapped her arms and then left. She never did come back. I don’t know why the man who lives with me can’t get a woman to stay longer. He would probably have better luck if he smelled better. It would be nice to have a woman stay here and live with us but the man doesn’t want to share her.

     I hate to say it, but the man who lives with me is not very smart. Every night he gets in the big box that makes rainwater and washes his scent off. Like I said before, if he wouldn’t wash his scent off he would smell better and would have better luck keeping a woman here. What is even worse, he wants to wash my scent off also. He puts me in the big box that makes rainwater and washes all of my scent off. It is not only humiliating it is just plain dumb. When he puts me in the box to wash he always takes off his clothes because I like to shake the water out of my fur. When he takes off his clothes in the evening I know he wants to wash me, so I run out the little door in the big door and hide in the yard. I sit out in the yard and laugh and gloat because I am so fast and smart. If the man who lives with me were smarter he could probably catch me and wash me every night. As it is now, he only catches me about every two weeks.

      When I am home it is my job to patrol the yard and make sure no squirrels, birds or bugs come into the yard. Sometimes I get tired though and lay on the porch, but only when the man who lives with me is not here. I don’t want him to know I am goofing off. I lay on the porch for three hours and rest but when I hear the man’s car pull up, I run to a tree and pretend I am looking up for a squirrel. Sometimes the man stands at the gate and watches me but I pretend I don’t see him until he calls my name and then I run to him. I laugh when he goes inside. He thinks I was working all day when I really was sleeping.

    Like I said, the man isn’t very smart but he does love me and a dog can do worse than that. He is a good hunter though and shares his meat with me, lets me lie in the place for sleeping with him and strokes my ears while I sit on his lap. He watches the big box with pictures and noise. It is really boring, you can’t smell anything from the box, but it keeps him still while he pets me. The real reason I know he loves me is once a week he walks around the yard and picks up my poop and then takes it somewhere and saves it. I guess he is not so bad, like I said, a dog could do worse. I just wish he could get a woman to stay with us.

 

© Kevin D. Burgess    08/07/2007