Tojo and Gus - Part Two

“You thirsty, John? Come in and I’ll get you a soda from the fridge.”

John from work nodded as best he could in my neck brace, and walked stiffly toward the center of the room. The neck brace takes a bit of getting used to before one can move about normally, but until then it makes one look cautious and scared. He stopped directly beneath the ceiling fan.
I began to stand but halted with one hand on the arm rest and the other on my knee. I stopped before my weight shifted to my feet and looked up. I had located Tojo.

So as not to distract my doggie from his game, I sat frozen and stared up at him, not moving a muscle. I’ve known that Tojo was a very creative and resourceful dog, but I’ll be darned if I can figure out how he managed to scramble up the wall and climb out onto the ceiling fan. But there he was. Tojo crouched low on one of the blades like a stubby, hairless panther on a tree branch, looking down on his helpless prey.

My eyes darted from Tojo to John. His skin had practically turned a seasick green from anticipation. I had to suppress a giggle as I looked back up at Tojo, his lips parted in a canine grin, eyes firmly focused on his mark.

“What is it?” John from work asked, his voice positively trembling with excitement. “Gus, what’s going on?”

His eyes stayed on me, mine on Tojo, and Tojo’s trained on John. I could not speak or else distract my dog and spoil his surprise for John from work. But as a thick, foamy line of slobber began to drop slowly from Tojo’s snout, I knew the surprise would announce itself soon enough.

“Gus?”

John slowly followed my gaze and looked right into Tojo’s grinning face.

The scream that emanated from my friend bordered on the hysterical. I mean he did have a nice coat but the slobber probably would not stain, so why freak out? He screamed so loud that he frightened poor Tojo. Fortunately, I leapt out and caught Tojo as he fell, fangs first, at John from work’s head. John could not have caught him with the way he flailed about the living room, clearly still very upset about the drool that landed on his shoulder.

Tojo buried his face in my neck, growling and whimpering as he chewed on the scarf, trying so hard to nuzzle me so I could comfort him. John from work screamed odd combinations of prayers and profanities as he struggled to tear off the neck brace. I tried to consol him by saying if he rubbed some detergent and soaked the coat right away, it would probably come out in the wash.

“You’re crazy, Gus! You’re out-of-your-head nutzo!” He threw the neck brace to the floor and rushed out the door.

As I pried Tojo off my neck I thought aloud, “Poor guy. He really must love that coat.”