Most cemetery members think of themselves as dog "owners." If asked, I firmly believe that their furry companions might offer another opinion. This is especially true for those of us who live with canines who are of the Alpha variety.
I have always envied those “owners” whose dogs came when called, chased the ball or walked at their heels. My dog, Nekoe, a.k.a “His Imperial Majest” (HIM), pictured above, seems incapable of any of those wonderful traits.
While he looks like a stuffed animal, Nekoe’s personality resembles that of the bully who stole your lunch money in grade school. Don’t let the perfectly inflected play bow above fool you. This dog, the scion of Satan himself, is the most stubborn creature that walks the earth, either on two legs or four.
Here is the HIM unusually at rest on his favorite cemetery illegal perch defying all human attempts to remove him.
Last Saturday, after several vain attempts to call my dog off the top of a tomb, I simply gave up, walking up to the cemetery gate out of sight. (Mind you, before leaving, I told him in a voice that resembled a fish wife to write when he found work.)
The two volunteers on gate check thought this was the funniest thing they had ever seen. They kept giving updates on HIM’s position.
After 15 fruitless minutes, I walked out the cemetery gate to my car in frustration. I tried repeatedly opening the doors with the remote key, which gives off a district beep.
No reaction from HIM. Not even and ear flick. I got in and started the vehicle. HIM, doing a perfect imitation of a gargoyle, remained unconcerned.
At my wits end, I seriously considered driving off and leaving HIM to his own devices. Instead, I got out of the car, sat down out of view on the sidewalk by the fence, and waited…and waited.
Twenty minutes later, HIM, realizing his human had gone missing, ran to the gate. After all, humans, only so trainable, are hard to replace.