Duke had entranced Bonnie. She and Duke had a whole play relationship where they pretended to fight. Lots of snarling and growling and yipping and yapping and barking. Duke would get the show started by offering Bonnie his favorite toy of the moment. She would grab it and he would bark. Then she would bark twice, and they were off and running. Jumping and twisting and tossing toys in the air.

With all the noise, you might have thought one of them might get hurt, but no one got hurt. Not even close. When they got tired, one or both would fall over unconscious. Remarkably like toddlers at play.

Bonnie will still play. A little bit. But, for whatever reason, the romance ended yesterday at around two in the afternoon. A little play, but after that, she’s not interested. Last night, for the first time since they met, she didn’t want to play. He barked. She ignored him.

He brought her every toy he could find and offered it too her. She put her little nose up in the air and ignored his pleas.

He sat in front of us, looked at Garry … and whined. Duke has never whined. All the toys were in a pile, but no one was willing to play with him. Garry looked him with sympathy.

“Been there, buddy,” he said. “That’s just the way it happens sometimes. You’ll get used to it.”

Duke whined again. Garry ruffled his ears. He settled down on the sofa between us and went to sleep. Although he got Bonnie to play a little bit this morning, after that, she wanted to do what she usually does, which is watch the world through the window. She started it, but all the dogs like to put their chins on their paws and watch the road from the window. Even Duke does it now.

Duke wanted to run with toys. Bark. Chase things. Grab toys and fling them across the room … which somehow always makes it land on my keyboard … sometimes doing some pretty weird stuff to whatever I was trying to do. Bonnie wasn’t having any.

But Gibbs was ready to party … and suddenly, there was rocking and rolling and toys in the wind. Gibbs is a lot stronger than Bonnie … and although he is short-legged, he outweighs Duke by at least five-pounds, all of which is muscle. They had a very good battle going on until they both fell asleep in the pile of toys. It turned out to be a much better day for Duke than he expected. We were glad he still had a playmate.

The Scotties are taking turns entertaining the Duke, who is at peace with the world. We are at peace with our crew of canines. If only the rest of the world could be content with a pile of stuffed toys and lots of fake growling.

Author: Marilyn Armstrong

Writer, photography, blogger. Previously, technical writer. I am retired and delighted to be so. May I live long and write frequently.

14 thoughts on “PERILS OF THE DUKE”

    1. That seems to be what they are doing. They take turns. Bonnie takes morning and about half an hour in the evening. Gibbs take midday and late nights. But that’s it. Duke come up and barks at ME because I’m supposed to make them play with him.

      Liked by 2 people

  1. Bonnie–you are adorable. Playing hard to get, keeping them confused….that’s my girl! Let’s throw some toys at Trump. I mean, let’s really THROW SOME TOYS at Trump. And he does not get to sleep on the sofa.


  2. Ody will sympathize with Duke. He loves to wrestle. His brother Spilly loved to wrestle with him. When Spilly passed and Biskit came onto the scene, Biskit wanted no part of rasslin’. Ody would chase Biskit all over the house, but Biskit, being much, MUCH more lithe than Ody, could always outrun him and get in places Ody couldn’t. Poor Ody has had to learn to get by without a tag team partner in the ring. He might’ve forgotten how to wrestle by now…


    1. Well, at least he gets brief periods with each of them. But the reality is that both Bonnie and Gibbs are more than 10 and heading quickly to eleven. They play, but they are more serious about naps and treats than rasslin’ and barking. Mind you, they really enjoy Duke. They are clearly happy to be together, but they don’t have that all day rah rah rah energy that a puppy has. And Garry and I not spring chickies either, so he’s a young, energetic pooch in a house full of old dogs and people. Sorry pup!


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