KALLEMANN ... everything that happens
You always admire everything that happens to me, but it's not always that nice and funny. So this time I'm gonna write you about everything that may happen:
The first story occurred last summer. Chico and I didn't even realize how excited our mistress was because of us. You know we live in an apartment of our own where an owner meeting takes place every year. Unfortunately the mistress most of the times isn't able to join it, as the KTR-general meeting takes place in Kassel on the same date. In April 1996, the majority of the flat-owners decided that every flat-owner may only keep one dog or cat in the future. My mistress read the report a few weeks later and would never have believed the decision to be valid also for the animals already living there, but far from it: Shortly after that she received a letter from the house management with the order to please reduce the number of her domestic animals to the proposed number within 2 weeks! My mistress and a neighbor who keeps two German shepherds didn't even think about this order and called an attorney in. After a while the whole incident ended up in a trial last November where the concerned four-leggers weren't even allowed to join their owners! The long and the short of it: the counterparties were in agreement - only the judge was against it!!!! Only with a lot of effort the judge was persuaded that we can stay as long as we live. That would just have been too much! My mistress explained us she would rather have moved than giving one of us away! She had to pay so many tidbits to the lawyer for all this anger that she could also have bought another mate for us!
Yeah, and then our mistress had to go to the vet with us several times, well, actually only with Chico, but as I have not been completely innocent I always have to join him now (and really, I always get so shy at the vet's). The first time I fought with Chico for my friend Sita and bit him a hole in his leg, but I guess I have already told you about that. Four weeks later, Chico was bitten in the ear by a Rhodesian Ridgeback on the dogs' training place and the wound bled quite terribly. My mistress was really shocked about it. I would really have enjoyed taking part in the quarreling, but I wasn't allowed to. The Ridgeback sniffed Chico's hindquarters and when Chico pointed out that he didn't like it the other dog started to fight.
Although Chico laid himself on his back straight he was caught in the ear. It looked as if he had been cut with scissors thrice. The wound had to be shaved and stitched properly right away.
It was already some years ago when I accidentally hit Chico in the eye while fighting over a chewing bone. The result was that the lower lid margin was torn. 10 minutes later we were already at the vet's to have it stitched. It has only been three weeks since the last disaster happened: When I followed my mistress through the apartment I didn't take care of where I was going and accidentally stumbled over Chico, who was sleeping. He immediately attacked me like a wildcat. I think this wasn't fair, because things like these sometimes happen, so I defended myself fiercely. Due to a lot of experience and circumspection our mistress always examines us carefully for injuries. This time we bumped into each other so hard with our teeth that one of Chico's lower incisors broke off. Somehow I think it serves him right, but my mistress was really angry. As the nerve of the tooth lay open and the rest of it was splintered it had to be taken out. My mistress thinks Chico looks like a first-grader now. By chance it was the same tooth I lost one year ago, when I wanted to pull some small snowballs including stones out of my paw during a walkie. So we involuntarily look like twins now.
I have seen my mistress most furious when the incident with the budgies happened: Two of them had been quarreling all the time so that our mistress put them in an extra cage in the kitchen. But the two birds in the kitchen were rioting in the smaller cage as if they were mad, because they wanted to get back to their fellows. After three days, they shook their feeding throughs hanging on the cage so heavily that the throughs fell down and the budgies escaped through the hole. But as they didn't know the kitchen too well and were completely untrained they were out of breath after a short time and had to land on the floor. Chico and I immediately ran towards them in order to pick them up. But the birds were chirruping so loud as they were so afraid that we bit them much harder than we actually wanted, because we were in a panic. We really only wanted to help out and carry them back to their cage! In fright the poor birds lost so many feathers! I really didn't know what to do! Hoping that my mistress wouldn't realize what had happened when coming home I even ate one of them. Later, of course, I pretended not to know anything about the catastrophe. To be on the safe side we stayed under the table when the mistress came home. But as there were so many feathers lying around she understood at once. Since then, my mistress has believed in us dogs having a guilty conscience as well. Our mistress had never scolded us as much as then before and she did not speak a single word to us for the rest of the whole day! I nearly thought she would never love us again. After all, at night I was allowed to sleep in her bed again. I also tried to be really inconspicuous. It was rather embarrassing the next morning when yellow feathers were to be seen in my pile!
Last New Year's Eve I gave my mistress a total fright: Two hours before midnight she took us for a walk to slowly get us accustomed to all this banging of fireworks. Just as I intended to look for a proper place in the park to make my pile I heard two rackets whizzing noisily into the air. I was so afraid that I pressed everything together and made a big jump towards my mistress. She told me to muster up and pretended nothing had happened! When I realized that she wouldn't comfort me I turned around in order to run straight homewards. My mistress ran after me in double-quick pace and finally got hold of me in the main street. I was scolded a lot, but I was after all glad that no car had come. I really hadn't spent one thought on the fact that a car could knock me down! Although we made peace again after a while, making a pile didn't work out anymore.
Well, and then there are still some more funny stories to tell about (at least for me) such as our stupid Chico when he doesn't take care of where he is going while running. Then he often steps into a hole in the meadow and bumps onto the ground with his snout. One time, he actually hurt himself so much he hobbled for days. If the ground seems dubious to me, I will simply take a big jump over that certain place!
Chico is usually so hungry that he eats everything coming into his way. One day, he must have eaten something bad. When he came home he lay down under the table to have some sleep, but when he wanted to get up again he swayed all over the place! My mistress supposed he had swallowed poison. He had to have an injection at the vet's. Did you notice that I am mostly involved, but rarely ever get a single scratch? This is probably because I am the quicker and craftier one and can trick Chico, who is the slower one!
You see, not everything is as rosy as it seems, even when experiencing as much as I do. Maybe you can tell me whether you also suffer from bad things over there in the US?