A couple months ago a family from Green Bay moved into the house a couple doors down. I’ve become good friends with the mother Carol, and Chuck has become good friends with the two kids, Harry, age 4, and Ella, age 2.
Before they met Chuck both Harry and Ella were terrified of dogs. I would be terrified of dogs, too, if I had never been subjected to a hairy beast with fangs who barks and licks his own ass and then all of a sudden came upon one. But Chuck somehow wriggled his way into their hearts, and slowly they have let down their guard and allowed him to lick their hands and sticky faces. YUMMY TODDLER STICKY FACE.
Recently they began coming over and giving Chuck treats every day, which is fundamentally good for their relationship because Chuck loves treats and people who give him treats. Actually, scratch that. Chuck doesn’t love treats; he’s BONKERS for treats, and he attacks treat givers with bonkerly love. This bonkerization is fundamentally bad for his relationship with Harry and Ella because now when he sees them coming he can’t control his flailing, beast-limbs and he runs and clobbers them. And they fall over. And scream.
But Harry and Ella are resilient, and they come back every day bearing treats. And now instead of handing him the treats or hitting the pavement and letting Chuck forage their arms for the treat, they throw the treat at him. Sometimes they hit him in the head, but Chuck doesn’t mind. He’s being hit in the head WITH A TREAT. It’s like treats are raining down from the sky, and if a ball-less dog could orgasm he totally would.
A few days ago Harry was at the grocery store and convinced his parents to let him buy Chuck a toy, a plastic green dinosaur that he brought over and threw at Chuck’s head. Chuck loves toys just as much as he loves treats, and he promptly grabbed the dinosaur and proceeded to behead it. And then he chewed off its hands, and then its feet. He finally de-tailed the poor monster and abandoned it in a pile of its severed limbs. Harry was HORRIFIED.
I tried to assure Harry that Chuck’s mutilation of the dinosaur was a show of love, not anger, but Harry was not convinced. He walked up to me with the body of the dinosaur in one hand, its head in his other hand and looked at me like, “Your dog killed my dinosaur.”
By the following afternoon, however, Harry seemed to have forgotten about the dinosaur incident and he resumed walking up our driveway and throwing treats at Chuck’s head. I, however, will never forget the dinosaur incident, and when Leta refuses to put away her toys I’m going to tell her, “If you don’t put away your toys this instant, I’m going to let Chuck kill your Barbies.”
