You can’t tell me that dogs don’t have a sense of humor. You just can’t convince me of that.
Daisy may be small, but she’s got a soul that’s part street tough. She’s lovable, sweet, silly, cuddy and oh so loving in return, but when it comes to acting like a clown, she takes her work very seriously.
And that combination brings out the street tough in her.
One of the things Daisy thinks is just hysterical is to run up behind me and lunge into the back of my knee, sending me crumbling toward the floor. So far I haven’t actually hit the ground, but I’ve come close.
And I could swear she’s laughing at me.
She stands a few feet away from me, panting in a way that looks like she’s laughing. Her eyes are sharply focused, her ears are at their perky best, and she’s just waiting for me to charge at her. Because then her real fun begins – the chase through the house. Which is all in fun.
This dog flies like greased lightning. While I’m running up the hallway, she’s already passing me going in the opposite direction. She’s been down the hall, through the bedroom, under the bed, and is already going back toward the living room before I even reach the halfway mark.
I stand absolutely still; she keeps racing. Around and around she flies as if the devil himself were at her heels. She finally stops on a dime and gives me that challenging look that says, “Go ahead, I dare you, try to catch me.”
This is Daisy at her street thug best – a “hit and run” artist, a master of escape. A sugar-coated pup masquerading as a vinegar-and-spice ruffian. Or maybe it’s the other way around.
And after the knee attack, when I’m doubled over with debilitating laughter, she takes advantage of the situation by jumping on me, knowing I’m helpless to defend myself.
Sweet puppy or street thug? You decide. 😉