Today The Man invented a new game for me to play. We went into the garage, which is a regular carnival of smells, and moved a few things around. The most significant item was a long plastic thing that looks like a banana, almost as long as the truck. The Man placed it the middle of the floor and put a very serious look on his face and stared me down for a few seconds. He put a treat under my nose, my favorite flavor, and shouted, "Kayak" in the most determined way. I had no idea what he wanted but I tried to look as alert as possible and wag the dickens out of my tail, providing an excellent cleaning service for the floor, just in case that was the intention. I assumed the treat would be forthcoming at that point, but apparently there was more to this exercise. The Man helped me climb over the side of the yellow thing and arranged me in an indentation near the front. This was no easy task since the inside of the yellow thing had enormous ridges, scupper holes, and footholds that make it difficult to find my footing. Do you think that is the thrilling moment when I got my treat? No. Of course not. The Man could barely contain himself with glee, but in a (pretend) stern voice told me to SIT, then DOWN, then STAY. By this time I assumed there was no treat coming, ever, but guess what? That's when I got my delicious freeze-dried chicken drop! We repeated this three or four times before he hauled me back into the house to find the lady. She was playing with her pink laptop and I made her stop by leaping on top of her on the sofa. We brought her into the garage and I assumed she was going to get into the yellow thing with me, which meant I'd have to share my delicious chicken drops. Instead, The Man asked me go through the routine again, which made The Lady clap her hands and squeal. This game really doesn't seem that difficult, but I did have trouble following the conversation that followed. Something about practicing in the pool, which seems ridiculous since I don't see how they are going to move the entire garage into the pool, but Hey, it's their house. Then they examined my feet again, just to confirm, one more time, that I really do have webbed toes, which lead to more squealing from The Lady, since she thinks that is another feature that adds to my extreme cuteness. Then there was something about a PFD for dogs which I gather is some sort of fancy jacket. The weirdest part of the conversation was that the big yellow thing has a name, and it isn't Banana. It is Arava, which is also the name of the bungalow where they lived on a deserted island in Tahiti, and it means Lemon Shark. Shark? From watching discovery channel I do believe sharks have more teeth than me, certainly at this point in my life when I have mostly gums. How do sharks fit into this picture? I'll have to learn the specifics, but I think I have come to my decision about about the pool and I wanted to let you know. After discovering that the pool most likely contains sharks, I'll not be getting into the water, ever.
And here I've been thinking that I'm the only pet in this family.