A Fool in Fur -- by Natalie D. Richards

A Fool in Fur

 

Considering how ridiculous I am as a person, I’m shocked I don’t have any really good embarrassing stories. As a rule, I lean toward silliness.  Just ask any of my YA author friends.  Jody Casella can tell you about how often I lose my phone/sunglasses/keys in my purse.  Romily Bernard can tell you about all the times I leave a sentence dangling halfway through so I can look at something shiny.

But everybody who knows me knows I’m a goofball, so that’s boring.  Let’s talk about the real fool in my life: Yeti.

Yeti is a seventy-five pound Goldendoodle who knows a thing or two about acting the fool.

Yeti likes to protect us from terrifying dangers, like robins.  Joggers. Squirrels. Skateboards. That horrible stranger in a ballcap who dares to check our electric meter.

In Yeti’s mind, the relentless pacing, frantic barking, and slobber slinging is a thoughtful gift of protection that his family should be grateful for. In our minds, he is a moron who could use another Dentabone. (Can't they make Orbit or Mentos for dogs or something?)

Yeti recently got a haircut and now his tail fur sometimes tickles his bum so he occasionally sprints out of a room, with a dirty looks at anyone nearby. I think he’s convinced one of us is trying to violate him with a feather duster. 

But in his mind, this is a valid worry. It couldn’t possibly be his own tail tickling him. After all, it’s never happened before. How could a haircut change things so much?

So, maybe acting a fool is all about the perception. I think unless we start howling and bouncing when our neighbors take a walk, we should just cut ourselves some slack and be as silly as we want.