Conversations With Small Dogs: The Stash

An aged Jack Russell Terrier is in the process of hiding a rubber toy in the folds of a blanket in a crate/end-table. He is concentrating intensely on his task, and periodically removes the toy, carries it around a bit, and then starts the process of hiding it again.

Me: So, Eddie, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.

Eddie: What? How can you even see me right now? Everyone knows that hiding dogs are invisible. You are some kind of freak, human. You’ve got those laser eyes or something, right? That’s why you wear that weird thing on your face, like that mutant dude.

Me: [patiently] Eddie, we’ve talked about this. You are not now and never have been invisi — wait, did you just call me Cyclops? I’m nearsighted! Those are my glasses! The eye lasers don’t improve his vision, and…well, he’s totally the douchiest X-man. I think I’m insulted.

Eddie: Whatever, lady. I just call ’em like I see ’em, and you are obviously a mutant. Now shut up and let me work.

Me: But that’s what I wanted to ask you about. Why are you always hiding your toys in Henry’s bed? Isn’t that just the same as giving them to Henry? I mean, you can’t think he doesn’t know they’re in there.

Eddie: He’s cool. He doesn’t have a laser nose.


About L. M. Bernhardt

For a good long while (15 years or so), I taught philosophy at a little private university in northwest IA, and occasionally branched out into playing music, dabbling in photography, experimenting with food, and writing nonsense on my blog. The philosophy teaching part ended in 2017 (program elimination via prioritization), but never fear! I've just finished my MLIS at San Jose State University, and I'm currently on the market looking for new adventures in either philosophy or LIS. For now, I labor at a fairly interesting administrative job in order to support my dogs in the lavish manner to which they've become accustomed.
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