Editor’s Note: Remind me why I kept this loud-mouth bitch?
Hi, it’s me, Leia!
I’m about to write a tell-all. Now, personally, I consider myself a serious blogger. But there are times - for instance, when your brother gets a little full of himself - that a sheepdog girl has got to use the tools at her disposal to make herself heard.
I haven’t really said a lot about Luke. He’s my brother. He’s cute. Unlike our six other brothers, who were born the size of small dump trucks, he was smaller, like me. So Mom worried about him. He got extra attention, is what I’m saying. Sure, we were only two, five, eight days old and our eyes and ears were not open yet, but I knew.
He knows it too. He is a bit of a cocky bastard, if I do say so myself. I’m told he reminds Mom of our great-great grandfather, Luca, whom she once tried to pay someone to lose in the Canadian hinterlands, despite the fact that he did not belong to her and she had no business trying to make him disappear.
Apparently great-great grandpa got the last laugh though, because here’s Luke, all swagger and big mouth and afraid of NOTHING. Me? I’m softer, I’m told. I take a little bit of time with new things sometimes. Think about. Figure it out. Move on to the next thing. I am a nothing if not a contemplative soul.
Not Luke. Luke feels he owns the earth and everything on it. He is strong. He is smart. He is beautiful. He is invincible. In other words, he’s an arrogant son-of-a-bitch (I can say that, because he really is.)
Don’t Hate Me Because I’m Beautiful
He finally met his match. The other morning as Mom rushed us out for the first potty session of the day he was standing close, surveying his kingdom, contemplating his path to greatness – he can also be contemplative, you see, as long as it pertains to him – when Mom farted.
Now, she asked me not to speak of this. Apparently humans have some kind of hang-up about this function. Especially female humans. Who pretend this never happens. (Oh, REALLY? Some of us have keen noses, you know.) And since she feeds me, I tried to respect her wishes. Really, I did.
However…
You know what? This scared the you-know-what out of mister tough-guy. In his defense, it was a drawn-out staccato affair, not unlike an anemic version of a machine gun. He jumped back and stared at her in utter horror. I didn’t know that lard-ass could move that fast!
I don’t know why it caught him so off-guard. If he wasn’t so busy snoring all night long – I do some of my best thinking in the middle of the night – he would have heard our great-aunt, Nana Sybil, fart on a near nightly basis when she wants to clear the room, never mind the bed.
Make Way for the Mighty Tootee
That said, I am now practicing the defensive fart. Having discovered his Achilles heel, I will use it to bring him to heel. Mine.
I am Sheepdog Bitch - Hear Me Roar!
A bitch has gotta do what a bitch has gotta do.