Doodle, a.k.a Boo-Anne, had been betrayed.
By the very man she loved more than a Milk Bone itself: Lamar.
The chunky little red dog was curled up on the couch, taking her post-dinner, pre-bedtime nap one evening when Lamar decided it was time for a bath.
She had artfully dodged bath time previously, ducking behind the couch or my chair anytime she saw Lamar.
He had warned her she was going to get a bath this time.
The little pibble mix stuck her chin up defiantly as if to say, “No, sir!”
She had outsmarted him and ducked to safety enough times to feel confident she was in the clear.
But alas, she was not.
Just when she thought because of the time that she was safe, she hopped up on the couch for her nap.
Lamar saw her reposed position – head on the arm of the couch, eyes closed in blissful slumber, and her belly slightly exposed in case anyone just had to pet it – and went in for the grab. He scooped her up in his arms like a baby.
“Get the bathroom door, Cole,” he instructed.
Cole ran to get the door, shocked his daddy would betray his baby girl this way.
The look on her face was priceless. At first, she may have briefly thought Lamar was going to cradle her like he did when she was a mere little puppy, holding her against his chest as he sang to her.
That look gave away to shock and horror as she realized he was walking towards the bathroom and she knew what that meant.
“Close the door, and do not, under any circumstances, open it until I tell you to,” Lamar told Cole.
Unlike the German Shepherd who nearly takes the wall down, Doodle just took her bath with great shame.
When done, she shot out of the bathroom like a pinball, running through the house, hitting one hiding place after another before settling on her spot behind my chair.
“Boo-Anne, did he not dry you off?” I asked her. “I have a towel….”
Big brown eyes peeked from behind the chair cautiously. She glanced right, then left before scurrying towards me.
I swaddled her in the towel and rubbed her somewhat dry.
When Lamar walked in, she ran back to behind my chair, going to the side between the arm and the shelves to look at him.
“I can’t believe you betrayed Boo-Boo that way,” I said.
Boo-Boo, Boo-Anne, Doodle—that dog was a true Southern belle because none of those were her given name of Angel.
“She needed a bath; she got out of them last time and she just thought she was going to get out of this one.”
She may have, but she didn’t expect to be so abruptly snatched from her nap to be chunky dumped in the tub.
“She will get over it in a few days. She loves me.”
I wasn’t so sure. Doodle could hold a grudge.
It didn’t take a day. Hours later, the pudgy pup was curled up beside him on the couch.
She may have forgiven but she didn’t forget.
When she saw him with the bottle of all-natural flea spray, she ducked behind the couch.
“I forgot to put conditioner on her but I want to make sure it’s not a flea,” was Lamar’s explanation while I watched him try to coax her out from behind the couch.
Boo-Anne peeked out before burrowing further behind her barricade.
It took a few days but he was finally able to spray her, sending her behind my chair for safety.
This time she put her little head up on my arm rest as if to ask, “Why do you let him do this to me?”
“Doodle needs her nails trimmed,” Lamar said. “I’ve got the clippers by the door. I need to grab her and take her out on the porch to trim them.”
“All you do is betray her, you know. She’s gonna get to where she doesn’t trust you anymore.”
“She trusts me fine,” Lamar said. “She knows I am taking care of her.”
Maybe she did.
And maybe the little weeble-wobbling dog also felt like her puppy rights were being violated and her trust was being equivocally betrayed.
Lamar even tossed the spray to Cole one evening for him to chase her into her hiding spot to spray her.
“She’s going to get you back,” I warned. “Payback is going to be bad, I’m afraid.”
Lamar didn’t think so. He was confident of the little dog’s love and loyalty.
As we returned home from church one evening, Lamar went into the bedroom to change and found Boo-Anne’s payback waiting for him.
“I told you she was going to get you back,” was all I said.
A woman scorned is one thing; a Boo-Boo betrayed is another.