Crossing Over

Today was very trying for my family. When mom tried to wash her hands after lunch, nothing came out of the faucet. Harrumph, I said. What the heck, mom said (g-rated version, for the kids).

We decided to go out and potty and see what was going on out there. What we found was a big hole surrounded by men. Water was spewing out of the hole, and a raging river was running through the parking lot, right in my path!

I looked upstream for a way around, but all I saw was the scary gurgling source of the river, and four men admiring the handsome boxer.

I looked downstream, but the river ran as far as I could see.

Mom insisted that I cross, and I gave her the look. Hey, my paws are dry and they are staying that way. I was angry, and she knew it.

But mom can be very persistent, and she would not budge except in the direction that would make me cross the torrent. Gamely, I crossed, braving the rapids and resisting the tug of the current.

Success. Hours later, I got my revenge on mom, when the water came back on and she was forced to take an ice-cold shower. Vengeance is sweet.