Picnic Table Woes Result in Happy Dog, Social Mishap

Waring, Texas - Well, it appears my dog is more strategic than I thought. I always believed there was more to my dog than appeared on the surface. I mean after all, she has been known to participate in her fair share of mischief (usually unbeknownst to me.) Last Wednesday night was no exception.

As usual, I made a political appearance at Steaknite here in Waring (steaknite.com). For those of you who don't know, Steaknite is the social highlight of the week here. Everyone for miles around shows up to enjoy live music and, of course, eat steak.

My dog figured out very shortly after I moved to Waring that large slabs of meat were being cooked in great numbers right around the corner from my house, and began, quite systematically to "beg" at the steaknite picnic tables. Sometimes she would make the trek across town even when I didn't.

Back to last Wednesday. My dog has mastered looking pitiful, as if maybe she was some poor roving mongrel who hasn't eaten in weeks and is only bloated in the stomach area because of her body's reaction to parasitic worms of some kind. NOT TRUE. In fact, my dog is very well fed, she just somehow manages to look like she isn't.

ANYWAY, it was while bearing this "pitiful" look that my dog passed a certain table Wednesday night. The only problem is two people were sitting at the table, ON ONE SIDE. If you've ever sat at a picnic table, you understand there is a necessary bakance needed sometimes to keep the table evenly keeled, if you will.

As my dog passed by bearing the aforementioned "pitiful" look, the rotund woman seated at the table leaned back to tempt my dog with a tasty morsel of steak. When she did, the critical mass/point/equilibrium of no return was crossed and the picnic table in all its glory tipped over backward.

Sometimes two people can at the very least appear graceful when they fall. This was not one of those situations. The two portly people tumbled backward in a mess of legs, plates, steak, napkins, picnic tables, socks, back braces, forks, and knives. The food, needless to say, ended up on the ground where my dog happily devoured it all.

I helped the people up and the Don Strange catering company happily replaced their steaks, but the event did not leave me wondering if perchance my pooch had actually calculated the exact weight/motion needed to tip the scales. It appeared, upon close examination, to be very strategic.

It reminded me of another incident involving my good friend Jonathan Avitia. I worked with him one winter at a ranch in Estes Park, Colorado. He very laughably prophesied my dog's death, which I might add, she over heard him say. A mere ten minutes later, when Jonathan "accidentally" slipped on ice and fell down a set of stairs, she was waiting patiently (and quite conveniently) and the bottom of the stairs where she proceeded to lick the inside of his mouth with her tongue.

Like I said...very strategic.

Truly, I have to watch how much info I divulge in this story. Somehow, some way, she has probably found a way to read this blog. After Wednesday night, I wouldn't doubt it.

That's the story of my life...