HOT DIGGITY-DOG

 “It’s okay,” I say to Bashi. He is on the grass in the backyard. “Get busy.” He cocks his head and heads for the brick patio. As a show-dog he has been trained to only “get busy” on the concrete square reserved for him at shows. It would be disastrous if he got busy on the turf while being judged.

 I pick him up, put him on the grass and again say, “It’s okay, Bashi. Get Busy.”

“Let me show him,” Ernest says. He grins at me as he gets down on his all fours and lifts his leg.

“Ernest!” I shout. “That’s enough.”

 “You can do it, Bashi,” Ernest says to Bashi. “Get busy.”

I help Ernest up, and Bashi, seems to sigh or something. OH, my, how he wants to be a good and obedient dog. Conflicting requests! What a conundrum!

Then he solves his problem.

He puts his front paws on the brick work, keeps his rear-end over the grass, raises a leg and “gets busy.”

“Good Boy!” We shout. “Hot Diggity-Dog!”

“Yes, and now we’ve got to re-train Lily,” I say.

Ernest grins.

“NO!” I say. “I am not going to squat.”