Let me begin by saying that Twister gets extremely excited when we come home. The manifestation of that excitement is anyone's game.
Here's her normal process:
- Smell under the door as we come up the stairs.
- Wait for the key to go in the door.
- Start whining and making noises similar to a turkey gobble.
- Leap gently up onto whoever has come in the door and wait for the (undoubtedly overdue) attention.
Of course, there is always the serendipitous exception which inevitably brings belly laughs, and in this case, utter shock and dismay.
She's had her episodes. Our entry table has taken more beatings than the Pittsburgh Pirates (just a prediction), and we are occasionally punished for our absence by a sea of chewed Tupperware which forms a Hansel and Gretel-esque path to her napping locale.
This one was different.
After coming into my dining room, I took off my coat and pondered when I'd be able to throw it in a closet while singing the Hallelujah chorus. I put in on the chair, pushed the chair toward the table, and tilted my head up only to receive a surprising flurry of kisses.
Yup. My 25 pound, 9 year-old dog had jumped on the table.
Sometimes I think the rescue mislabeled her species.
I gave a quick "WHOA!" and commanded her down. My boyfriend and I both stood there stunned, and, in a tired moment of psychology-ignoring lunacy, I said "do it again" and pointed to the table. And she did, in one bound.
I have to say I'm impressed. At her top speed, she can soar forward about 7 or 8 feet ahead of her. I just never pictured her being able to clear a table. And thanks to a lack of camera charger, I have only my testimony as witness to the crime against gravity.
She hasn't done it since, but I wonder what kind of misadventures happen when we're gone. While I figure it out, our tablecloth and washing machine are becoming buddies.
Until next time....
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