Bullet Ate My Cookie

We all have those moments that stick with us whether we choose them or not. For instance, tonight at supper with the boys and girl, I recalled a story from my childhood in which I put my unwanted pickles in the greenery at Hardees one week and came back to find a tree in the same spot the next. I then declared, “I grew a pickle tree!” That event happened well over 20 years ago, yet I still remember it vividly. Why? I have no idea. It’s not like I’m a pickle tree advocate.

More recently, during a regular week-night dinner with my parents, my dad asked me to tell him what had made me laugh that day. I thought. And thought. And thought. And I could think of nothing. Then I thought, “That’s sad. I can’t think of one thing that made me laugh today.” Then I continued to think, “What’s even sadder is that today was not abnormal. I don’t ever laugh much at work. And that’s not good.” And it wasn’t good. And I hope maybe somehow that will change next year. Because laughter really is a very good thing.

And so, tonight, I offer a couple of incidents with Bullet that have made me laugh this week:

1) My family was at the house tonight to have an early birthday celebration for my mom. Her birthday is Sunday. Bullet has finally learned that my family will not hurt him, but he still doesn’t like spending very much time with them. He’s also learned that if he stays quiet enough then he can stay in the garage or driveway without being banished to his porch. Quite often, when the family is here, Bullet will find a way into the house and look around until he spots my dad, get a pat on the head, and then take himself back outside. He just doesn’t like being in the house with so many people.

So this evening, when I heard Bullet insistently knocking on the door while the family was still here, I knew that something must be wrong. Sure enough, storm clouds had begun to gather and thunder had begun to roll, and Bullet’s fear of storms had overridden his fear of the family. I let him in. He went and hid. Now he’s sleeping on the couch between my dad and me, looking up for comfort every once in awhile, knowing that he is very, very loved…and very, very spoiled. No. This isn’t a roll on the floor laughing story, but something about this still makes me laugh. Maybe it’s because he’s being so ridiculously and fearfully sweet.

2) My dad got new tires this week. Before he could order the tires, we had to figure out what tires were already on his car. As he shone the flashlight on the small codes that told us what size Bridgestone he was riding on, I bent down to look more closely. Immediately, Bullet walked over, lay on his back, opened his arms and legs, and basically said, “Oh good. You got down on my level to pet me. Thank you. Now pet me.” So I did. And then I remembered a time when I was helping mom and dad look for something under their bed and Bullet came over and started pawing at my hand and licking me, basically saying, “Oh good. You got down on my level to play with me. Thank you. Now let’s play.”

3) Every night that I’m home supper, Bullet thinks that we need to go for a walk after I finish eating. He runs toward the door, stops to look back at me and move his head toward the door to tell me to come on, gets to the door, does a little dance, scratches the door to tell me that it’s time to go out, and then runs outside in sheer happiness. He runs ahead of me, peeing all over everything, but never getting too far ahead without stopping to look back and make sure I’m coming. If he’s not finished walking when I’m ready to come home, then he ignores me and keeps walking. If I start coming back to the house and he realizes that I’ve left him, he bullets himself back to me as fast as he can. And then he collapses when he comes back in…kind of like he has collapsed from fear right now.

4) Bullet is fat. He loves to eat and he eats a lot. Every time he hears someone go into the kitchen and open anything with a wrapper, he thinks that we are getting him food. Every time we eat a meal at the kitchen table, he sits beside us and begs. He’s actually annoyingly cute when he sits up on his back legs and begs, sometimes with the tip of his little tongue out.

Sometimes, instead of eating at the table, my mom and I will eat in the den and watch a show. When this happens and Bullet thinks he is really hungry, he’ll rest his paws on my left leg and look at me with great expectations. Sometimes, if he thinks he is super hungry, he’ll leap across my lap and try to eat the food out of my hand. This is what he did on Monday—only I wasn’t eating chicken or a burger or anything that he likes. I was eating a cookie that I had made out of Funfetti cake mix!

To my knowledge, Bullet had never eaten a cookie, but for some reason he decided that he really wanted my cookie. Sitting anxiously with his paws on my legs, Bullet waited hopefully for me to give him a piece of the food treasure in my hand. When I didn’t—because it was a cookie—he jumped across my lap, stuck out his tongue, and licked my cookie! Very surprised by his actions, I looked at him and said, “Bullet—do you really want my cookie? It’s not chicken or anything.”

Now, when Bullet doesn’t like the food offered to him, he refuses to eat it. His dog bowl often has peas and carrots remaining in it from dog-food beef stew. Naturally, I figured he’d refuse to eat the cookie when he realized what it was. But I was wrong. He ate the whole thing. And I laughed. And all week I’ve laughed every time I’ve remembered the moment when Bullet ate my cookie.

Maybe you're laughing, too?