Sibelle ~ With Malice Aforethought
From puppyhood Sibelle exhibited the unusual characteristic of raising one eyebrow while lowering the other. She would alternate from left to right at non-specific intervals, and sometimes she would raise both eyebrows at once. She had a lovely face with an oddly skeptical expression. It might be foolish to judge by appearances, but Sibelle's expression led me to believe she was writing in a journal when we went to sleep. She was an observer.
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1. Playing defense
In celebration of breaking the hump of the week, Wednesday was take-out night. Rudy's Pizza would make up a big dribbley extra large, half double cheese half pepperoni. They cooked it; we picked it up. Twenty minutes from phone call to coffee table.
As was the dictate of the ritual, we would return home from our foray into the depths of New Jersey, pizza held high in the air, and march through the house to the one room in the back known as the "addition". It wasn't a very large room, but it did have enough space for a nice round coffee table. As we made our way through the front room all six dogs (I'm not going to explain that part) would walk between our legs and stand in front of our shins and shove from behind in an attempt to bring down the trophy.....except Sibelle. Sibelle would sit quietly next to the coffee table, one eyebrow up, one eyebrow down.
The understanding between the two people and the six dogs was that the people would eat the soft chewy parts and the dogs would get the crusts. It worked pretty well. As we worked our way from the pointy crust to the wider less gooey section, the dogs would become fidgety and agitated. About half an inch before the actual crust the barking would start. That was notice that intermission was over and it was time to fulfill our obligations; and we did, because fair's fair.
Things were going pretty much according to routine on this particular Wednesday evening, when half way through the meal Sibelle stood up and ran to the front room. She raised herself up onto the window sill and gave the "MURDERER AT THE DOOR" bark.
Anyone who owns dogs, or even knows dogs will recognize that bark. "Jeffrey Dahmer's at the door!" "Mad alien invaders with the ability to multitask are at the door!" "People collecting money for the National Democratic Committee are at the door!" (The Republicans always sent letters.)
We dropped the pizza back into its box and accompanied by the five other dogs, all took our stations staring out the windows. It may come as a shock to you, but if it's nighttime, and the lights are on inside your house, and they aren't on outside your house, when you look out a window, all you see is your own reflection.
The dogs were jumping in the air. We ran to turn on the flood lights to illuminate the driveway and the front walk. We didn't see anything. We looked to the dogs. They didn't see anything. They didn't even smell anything. Nobody was there. Had Jeffrey Dahmer chosen the house next door? Maybe it was a squirrel. And exactly where was Sibelle? Sibelle had disappeared. Oh God, had he/she/it gotten Sibelle?
We called out her name...no response. We ran to the back room. Sibelle was sitting by the coffee table in a perfect sit-stay, looking skyward. Her eyebrows were still; her eyes were wide with dilated pupils. We ran to her, checking her for injury. Her muzzle was covered in blood.
The other dogs joined us and set about sniffing her and licking her wounds. Soon she had five dogs lapping at her face. That was unusual. I stood back for a moment and noticed her eyes stray, just a bit.
I turned to the coffee table and opened the Rudy's Pizza box. The pizza was gone. The pizza was gone and the box had been closed. I stared at Sibelle. She returned my stare, and whined, the remnants of Marinara sauce and pepperoni on her breath. She barked out a mumbled sound, as it was difficult to articulate with five dogs licking mozzarella off your nose while attempting to get those clinging chunks of crust out from between your incisors. "Jeffrey Dahmer did it", she managed. Then she raised an eyebrow.
I'm sure it made an interesting entry in her journal that night, "Never underestimate the gullibility of human beings."
2. PLAYING OFFENSE
If you want to start a dog fight, just follow these simple rules:
1. Find something at least two dogs both want
2. Throw it to a point exactly equidistant between them
*******
It's like some beloved childhood algebra equation: "If two dogs leave the corners of the room at the same time, accelerating at a rate of one foot per second, traveling on a polished wood floor, which dog will get the biscuit first?"
In the real world what happens is the faster dog gets the prize and the other dog chases the winner around for a while, or in a worst case scenario, they arrive at exactly the same point at exactly the same time and bite each other.
I should mention that's a very good reason never to throw one thing to two dogs.
*****
On rare occasions people who didn't own dogs would step foot in our house. On this occasion a friend had brought a teenage nephew along. Having nothing better to do, the teenage nephew starting throwing food at the dogs.
Sibelle happened to be in the vicinity at the time and decided one of two things: Either she decided to join in the fun of the competition or she decided to stop this nonsense since there wasn't anyone else around to deal with the problem.
The idiot nephew threw out a dog cookie. As described in the paradigm above, it landed exactly half way between Sibelle and a young male. Sibelle tilted her head, raised her eyebrow and then set off at full tilt, not towards the cookie, but towards the dog. She hit him with a terrific full body block, sending him flying across the room. As he lay against the baseboards catching his breath she trotted over to the cookie, picked it up and in the most delicate of ways sent it down her long elegant throat.
She walked up to the instigating teenager and raised first one eyebrow and then the other. He smirked, chubby face delighted with the show. "Doggy likey cookie?" he slurred at her, completely exhausting his vocabulary.
Realizing she hadn't completed her task, she raised her lips and sent him to the
corner previously occupied by the young male dog.
That night her journal read, "They just keep making them more stupid."
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