Keeping The Faith

“So aside from growing kick ass sideburns and spawning gingers, what does this guy do for a living?”


To be honest, that statement has absolutely nothing to do with today’s post.  It was something I asked Wifey the other day about the fiancé of one of her cousins.  It just wasn’t something I could expand into 500 to 1000 words of verbal brilliance used to brighten up an otherwise dull internet.


Now that the prologue is out of the way, let’s get onto other things.


Faith is driving us nuts.


That dog has some sort of perpetual energy source which is extensive.  Coupled with a separation anxiety, she’s created a whole new dynamic around the domain recently.


This morning, we opted to take Faith with us on an errand or two to help her expel some energy.  This also allowed us to keep her from attempting to lower the drawbridge and going on an unsanctioned neighborhood tour.


After we made a stop to move some furniture around, we then ran over to the grocery store to get some spreadin’ around candy for Halloween tonight.


Yeah, I know.  That was a couple of days ago.  Thus, “Letters for the PAST”.


By then, Faith was wound up pretty tight and pacing the backseat of the TharpSter Truck like it was nobody’s bidness.  As we got to the store, Wifey jumped out to go pick up some Tootsie Pops.


Mmmmmm, Tootsie Pops.


As Wifey walked away from the truck and into the store, Faith freaked out, and jumped into the front seat so as to get a better view of one of her masters leaving her presence.  As she did so, she kicked over the 44 ounce drink of cool, refreshing soda which the aforementioned master had left in the drink console which occupies the bitch seat of the truck.


Very loud and very specific profanity ensued from the other master (me), who grabbed Faith’s harness and threw her 9 3/4 toed, high strung, scrawny ass into the backseat where she belonged.  Suddenly, the pacing and whining stopped.


Sadly, that wasn’t in time to mitigate the drink console being filled to the brim with cool, refreshing soda.


“What happened?”  Wifey asked as she got back in the truck with the Tootsie Pops.


Mmmmm, Tootsie Pops.


“You can ask that question knowing that we have that tightly wound spring in the backseat?”


Actually, I’m pretty sure I responded with something more profane.  I was still pretty ticked off.


Quick side note.


Remember a few weeks ago when Faith got out of the domain and picked up by a lady down the street who then commanded me to talk to her over the phone?


Well, ladies and gentlemen, it’s Halloween as I write this.  Guess who just showed up at my door, dressed like Batgirl (kinda), and trick or treating with her daughter the witch?


I’d never met her face to face before.  She recognized Faith, who as been assisting with the dispensary of Tootsie Pops.


Mmmmmmm, Tootsie Pops.


Returning back to today’s regularly scheduled blog, I decided to walk Faith part of the way home from the grocery store today.  Once we turned onto our street, I pulled the truck over and jumped out with the little lab-jack terrorist in tow (or toe, take your pick).


For the entire walk home, I kept that dog on a short leash.  At one minute intervals, I had her doing Crazy Ivans.


Crazy Ivans, for those of you who haven’t seen The Hunt For Red October, involves Russian sub captains circling back on route periodically so as to pick up on anyone one that’s following them.  As it applies to walking a dog, the premise is to stop walking periodically.  Big picture, the dog is supposed to stop with you, and strongly take into to consideration to have a seat and await further orders.  Hope, our pit bull does that.


For those dogs which opt not to stop, *cough* Faith *cough*, you let them keep walking.  Just before they get to the end of their leash, *cough* noose *cough*, you snap the leash and order them back.  In the case of Faith, she’s supposed to circle around my right side and come from behind me and back into heal position on my left hand side.


Crazy Ivans.

If you’ve ever tried to walk a hyper dog while initiating periodic Crazy Ivans, all the while trying to record it with your phone, you will have absolutely no problem understanding why the cinematic integrity of the video posted above is Blair Witch quality at best.

Once I got her home, I banished her to her kennel where she whined.  She didn’t whine as much as before, but still she wouldn’t really shut up either.


Several hours later, she seems to have chilled.


Our trick or treaters, on the other hand are approaching the door and ringing the bell.  They’re hearing Hope’s mean dog bark, and then being greeted by Faith, who wants nothing but to liberate Tootsie Pops and other sweets from the assorted collection of buckets, pillow cases, and backpacks that have graced the porch tonight.


Mmmmmmmm, Tootsie Pops.

Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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