Chomping on Red Lobster

Oh, the games dogs play.

We have two Westies, they love to play games. Especially when I join them on knees to become the big dog on the floor. I get no respect for that condescension, or preferential treatment…we’re all just dogs now, playing games.

Mac is a male, Sophie a female. Mostly they cohabitate peacefully, often sleeping together. But with certain games, their innate temperament as civilized animals vanishes, especially if the games involve certain toys. Dogs have a covetous gene as well. One might say that one is Blue, the other Red. The roles often change, depending on the game. But the stakes are always high…win at all costs!

This morning we’re playing the “Get Red Lobster” game where the Pack Leader, that’s me, gets to incite violence by playing “keep away.” The game goes like this: I run wildly around the house with red lobster, occasionally flinging it into another other room. A mad rush ensues to capture the creature. Suddenly, upon capture by one or the other, it becomes “mine.” Teeth off, you interloper! It’s sorta like screaming “Fire” in a crowded auditorium…pandemonium results.

The red lobster is elusive, it changes mouths, one stealing it from the other, or by brute force or cunning one manages to elude the relentless pursuer with the Grail. Which is the whole point of the game anyway. This entertainment continues until one or the other loses interest, or Pack Leader tires of the charade. Covetousness abates, but it often gets nasty and mean before it’s over. Bored, they retreat to chair to cohabitate. All at rest…till tomorrow.

It’s not wise to intercede with one’s hand into the tug-of-war fray in the battle over “it’s mine.” They will mock that ill-conceived intrusion. Bloody fingers or worse, all in good nature, of course, will be the aftermath of gate-crashing that private affair. God once interrogated that poor fellow, Job, saying, “Pal (God never actually calls anyone pal…I made that up), wanna have something to remember? Lay your hand on Leviathan, remember the battle, you won’t do that again, because your last state will be more grievous than the first.”

Now “Get Red Lobster” is not the only game we play. It gets boring after a while. Something new is required. We have a game called “Shirt.” Blue Man (Mac) hides beneath a tattered shirt. This is the signal for Red Girl, Sophie, to attack, assaulting him from all angles. After a brief but brutal engagement, he emerges, having had enough, fleeing finally under the bed for safety.

Red Girl especially likes the “Little Man” game, where my fingers walk across the floor, attacking with the battle cry, “Little Man’s gonna get you.” I can only speculate what she thinks two fingers can actually do, but it invokes harsh growls and she cuts and runs out for cover. Of course, it’s just a devious trick. Even the Devil (notice I gave him respect by the capitalization) is expert at this game, pretending with great swelling words what will happen if one’s actually “caught.” It reminded me of the childhood “boogy man under the bed” delusion…we fled when no man pursueth!

We have many other toys, each with the same underlying theme…harmless games for fun and entertainment. There’s Monkey, Mr. Gator, Bear, Shoe, Rope, Squirrel, and Lamb. We emphasize their importance of “winner take all” by ascribing to them capital letters. After all, what’s the use of competition or struggle, fun or otherwise, if there’s no prize to gain?

The nation is playing high-stakes games now in Washington, on Wall Street, in Iran and Afghanistan. These games have devolved into a winner-take-all, no-holds-barred contest of do or die consequences. Civility has been cast to the dogs. Like a rancid bone, bloody tooth and nail, the nation is being ravaged to shreds with no end in sight. Old friends are now foes, while in the wake greed follows like a bad odor. The Pack Leader, with Windy City words, vacillates and incites, hiding safely behind words, shirts and skirts, while unrestrained his minions mine gold from the clueless caverns of Congress.

Dog games entertain, but there is a conclusion to them. Time limits are good things with games…it leaves the loser opportunity to try again tomorrow. And tomorrow will come! What game will we play then?

Oh, the games we play with others, and with ourselves. Now there’s a bone to sink your teeth into…..

Bud Hearn
October 9, 2009