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  • Writer's picturePatty Kramer

The Booga-Man

Updated: Aug 25, 2023

My new surroundings had lots of walls, which I didn’t like, but lots of rugs which I did. Although I didn’t know they were rugs and just assumed, wrongly as I was quickly told by the whiny two-legs, that they were not for my perfect bathroom experience. I was to “go” outside no matter what! No ifs, ands, or butts would be accepted. Ha! My baby bladder had a mind of its own, and two-legs would learn that soon enough. Show me running water, or a surface that was soft on the paws, and it would become the ideal place to get rid of whatever had crept up and was pressuring to be released. Nobody was going to tell my private parts what they could or couldn’t do at my young age.

After we got the bathroom problem straightened out between us, which quickly had two-legs removing every rug that she could roll and lift by herself, we moved onto her writing porch where Amazon was quickly called up. Sitting in her lap I watched rows and rows of puppy toys roll by that made my mouth yearn for something to bite on. Without anything else of any substance within reach, I began biting on her hands. That started another don’t lecture complete with the line that I would quickly learn to ignore—good doggies don’t do that! Ignoring it because I figured she must have had a before-me-puppy that possessed the personality of the dead-head Fred I’d been forced to share a cage. All real puppies peed and bit whatever their paws or their snouts touched. This two-legs needed to understand the motto momma had chanted to us as we nursed the tits attached to her soft underbelly—dogs rule! The sooner this lesson was absorbed, the better off my life would be.

By the time the tall, saltier two-legs got home, I was pretty much ruling everything within the confines of the writing porch. If she hadn’t blocked me from any room with a rug, I would have easily ruled the whole place, as this two-legs was a pushover for my tiny, very expressive black and white face when it was cocked to one side. But this larger occupant of the house gave me a thorough looking over, watched me yap, bite, and pee wherever I liked, and declared in his scary, deep voice that he was the Booga-man come to straighten me out. Of which I found out meant he was in charge of the two-legs pushover, the entire house, and therefore, little ole me.

His declaration had me believing that momma must not have known about the Booga-man. Possibly, though, maybe this was just a test I needed to pass in order to reign. Decision was made to simply ignore him for a while, let him think my puppy brain was thick-skinned and that orders needed repeating. Maybe, if he exhausted himself like two-legs pushover, I wouldn’t become an enemy of someone who tasted so delicious when you got a chance to lick his hands. Mmmm, did he taste good!

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