Miss Scarlett Is Etiquettely Challenged

Perhaps you remember our adopted dog Scarlett, the Australian shepherd we took in from a former student who works in law enforcement, and had to keep her crated for 12 hours at a time.

Scarlett has been with us for six months now. She has the run of the property, and has learned not to dash off and sit on strangers' front porches until they post on Facebook for someone to come get her. She seems to be enjoying life, and has learned to be a dog. She only walks behind me, and now pokes my calves with her nose as if she is the one deciding where I will go. She particularly enjoys barking her fool head off in the wee hours of the morning on the front porch, and ADORING Hick from near and far when he's outside on the grounds.

Scarlett has learned not to run into the house, and not to jump up and grab food off the kitchen counter when I leave the door open while setting down my purse, before doling out the daily treats when I return from town. She also does not run in and out of the garage, making the door stop closing when I'm trying to make my getaway, or park inside.

The most recent treat for the dogs is a tasty one. Bread dipped in the drippings from the roasted vegetables I cooked with bacon on top. Sunday was the last day for the leftovers. In getting the pans ready for washing, I had the dipped bread on a plate, and scraped the remaining baby carrots on top. I had a plate for each dog. I can't just toss the bread and carrots out on the porch like the regular treats, because we don't want greasy wood outside the kitchen door.

Those plates were fit for a queen and king! Not quite as fancy as the cat food served in a crystal dish on that commercial, but exquisite enough for an outdoor canine. The nutty oat bread soaked from crust to crust in the bacon juice, and just the right amount of carrots on top. Jack is a smaller dog, so he got a few less carrots, all on a small paper plate. Scarlett had more, on a larger paper plate.

Hick came home early, around noon, and I saw Scarlett pacing outside the kitchen windows. I figured that was a good time to set out their treats, to get them off the kitchen counter before my town trip a few hours later. When I opened the kitchen door, Scarlett was RIGHTTHERE! I'm sure she though Hick might be coming out for her ADORATION. Jack heard me talking to her, and quickly appeared.

I picked up the treat plates, and stepped out the door. Jack waits like a true gentleman, but Scarlett is more excitable. As in, jumping up and down as if on springs, though careful not to put her paws on me, as that was the source of her one and only whacking. With a stern talking-to, she stood still. I always serve Scarlett's treat first, or she will dash in and steal from Jack. Who lets her do it without a growl, bark, or snap, because he is besotted with her.

As I bent to set down Scarlett's plate, she jolted forward and hit that plate with her nose, flipping it upside down.

"You stupid idiot!" I am not shy about calling an idiot an idiot. 

Scarlett cringed as if I was going to beat her with a 2 x 4. AS IF! I clearly had my hands full, and have never touched her other than that one whack on her shoulder with my hand and a stern NO when she bounced off my belly as if it was a trampoline. Even though I laid in wait for her to invade the kitchen again, a rolled-up magazine at the ready, and was never given an incident to use it.

Anyhoo... Scarlett slunk around while I set down Jack's plate, as if I was deliberately favoring him! Any other dog might have scooted that plate off the treat. But no. I had to lift if up for dainty Miss Scarlett to enjoy her bacon-dripping bread and carrots. For her naughtiness, she was left to lick the wooden porch deck, and root her treat out from the dried leaves that have assembled over the past two days.

That dog is more unmannerly than Hick himself!