snickers, again

Once we’re home, I head for the couch. I’m snoozing peacefully with Rowdy when a smell, a doozy of a smell, assaults my schnozz, which is finally back to working order.

It’s her.

Snickers is back.

She’s been gone for a while. After the hurricane, they had to do some repairs to Mack’s house. Not sure where Snickers has been staying, but that’s definitely her I smell, no doubt about it.

I dive under the couch, but not before Nutwit appears at the front window. “Oh, Bobbo!” he calls. “Someone’s looking for you!”

“I’m not home,” I yell.

“Yeah, I don’t think she’ll take no for an answer,” says Nutwit.

“Shouldn’t you be rebuilding your nest?”

“Naw. Watching you cower in fear is way more fun.”

“What’s the deal, Uncle Bob?” Rowdy asks.

“Be afraid, Rowdy,” I say. “Be very afraid.”

The door opens, and there’s Julia with Snickers by her side.

“Well, hello there, Snickers,” says Sara as she passes through the living room. “What are you doing here?”

“Mack and his wife just moved back in,” Julia says. “They called this afternoon and said Snickers was dying for a walk.”

I ease back a little farther under the couch. Can Snickers see me? Maybe not. But she can most definitely smell me.

For once I regret my pungent aroma.

Snickers darts across the living room straight to the couch, pulling Julia along for the ride.

“Snickers!” Julia exclaims. “Slow down, girl!” She kneels. “Bob, are you hiding under there?”

I move an inch, exposing my snout.

Snickers goes insane. She yanks free of her tug-of-war string. For a moment, she pauses to do a polite nose tap with Rowdy. Then she lets loose with zoomies and yips and howls of joy.

“Bob,” Julia says, “come on out and say hi.”

I pretend not to hear her. Which isn’t a big stretch, since Snickers is barking like a maniac.

“Robert,” says Julia.

Fine. I belly-crawl out until I’m exposed.

Snickers is ecstatic. She showers me with licks and nips and nudges and leaps. “Bob,” she croons, “how I’ve missed you!”

I cover my head with my paws, but there’s no escaping her adoration.

“There’s a reason we survived, Bob,” she says, her fuzzy tail in high gear. “The fates want our love to blossom.”

“Is this your girlfriend, Uncle Bob?” Rowdy inquires.

“Girlfriend today,” Snickers responds in a giddy voice. “But who knows what tomorrow may bring? Perhaps you should start calling me Aunt Snickers.”

I am relieved beyond measure when Julia finally pulls Snickers, with great effort, out the door. I try to ignore Nutwit’s teasing. I try to tolerate Rowdy’s stifled laughter.

But when Minnie starts chanting “Bob and Snickers!” followed by Moo’s “sitting in a tree!” I’ve had enough.

I head for my doggie door, ignoring the popcorning guinea pigs, and try to locate my dignity.