By Peppermint Patti
JOTR Columnist
The bush-tails took a vote, Sophie, and they want me out of the yard.
Isn’t that precious?
I’ve never been so flattered.
They held their congress all afternoon — didn’t you hear their chattering?
They came up with a long list of offenses.
I’ve never been so proud.
A vote of banishment.
That’s what they called it.
What a hoot!
Oh yes, my offenses.
Excessive barking.
They called it “incessant yipping.”
That is wrong, Sophie. I don’t do yipping.
Barking is my game, and if they don’t like it, I’ll do more of it.
Whatever the bush-tails don’t like is my cup of tea.
Their anathema is my nirvana.
I was surprised, though.
That it was barking they hate most.
What about my incessant chasing of them up maple trees?
Running them through the pines?
Doesn’t that annoy them?
Just a little?
They have their priorities all wrong.
Barking takes no effort on my part.
Barking, woofing, yipping, baying — it’s duck soup to a dog.
There’s no achievement in sheer noise.
But chasing, now, that takes practice.
Chasing takes timing.
Chasing takes hard work — speed, endurance, agility.
It is a form of art, chasing.
It should be on the list of things about me they hate.
Yipping?
How pedestrian.
And the other thing about me that annoys them — tail wagging.
I beg their pardon.
This is getting personal.
What I have is NOT a tail.
It is a plume.
You’d almost think, Sophie, that they took their vote just to, well, you know, to needle me.
Talk about yipping — I barked long and hard when I heard they want me ousted.
You and what army? I said.
Banished, indeed.
I took a vote a long time ago.
I voted to wipe out the squirrels.
Vote was one to zero.
Get out! I said.
I barked it.
I bayed it.
I yipped it.
I’m not above yelping.
Whimpering, if need be.
Know what they said?
You and what army?
