Bored – according to Oxford: Feeling tired and impatient because one is doing something dull or one has nothing to do.
Ok. I didn’t quite get the human concept before, but I’m getting it now.
After reading something about the benefits of strength and endurance conditioning for Tripawds, Mom decided that Catie needed to start a fitness program – NOW – to make her one remaining front leg stronger. I don’t understand what the big deal is; Catie seems plenty strong enough to me when she has one of my toys and I want it back.
The training goes like this:
Mom spends a lot of time getting Catie positioned on one of the dog beds. Like most houses, we have heaps of them in each room. Mom and Dad have had to clear a lot of their own furniture for them all, which is fine with me because the only human item I go on is Mom’s bed. I’ve never willingly gone up on a couch or a chair except for the times Mom hauls me up on one. I endure it to make Mom happy – for about five minutes. She finally lets me go because I won’t look at her for the entire time because it’s humiliating. Mom can’t understand it. I keep trying to tell her it’s because I’m a cool dude and I prefer being on the floor.
Catie doesn’t want to cooperate. I simply stay out of the way. I’m a little worried already that this is all going down the way of yoga. Mom’s all red in the face and she’s not even upside down. Who needs a fitness program again? Catie’s not even breathing hard.
“Down, Catie,” Mom says.
Catie looks at her. She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. Naturally, I go down. I respond to commands very well – even ones not directed at me – and wait for my treat but Mom’s not even looking my way.
When Catie finally does as she’s told, Mom makes a lot of gushy noises about “Oh, good girl!”
Give me a break. Hellllloooo! Over here! See this g’boy, superpowered dude over here doing exactly what Catie’s not doing?!??
Here we go. Mom asks Catie to sit.
Catie looks at her. She looks at me. Her gaze slides toward the window, the ceiling, anywhere but at Mom. Good grief. It’s an involuntary reaction and I sit. And wait. Mom eventually wrestles Catie up to a sitting position. It is sad but true – this is FAR worse than yoga.
This futile endeavour continues for some time. In the meantime, because I can’t help myself, every time Mom says “down” to Catie, I go down; every time Mom says “sit” to Catie, I get up and sit. Over and over and over again. By my estimation by the time Mom gives up, I’m owed about 6,032 treats. Catie deserves none. Nada. Zippo. She gets one anyways. So do I.
One.
Bored – according to Riley: Feeling tired and impatient after doing something extremely dull and still waiting for 6,031 biscuits.