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My son totally busted me on the new name I had given our friends dog. They were back from being out of town and were anxious to pick up their baby and get home. Rocco had been staying with us the entire week.

Is Barko going to stay with us again tonight, Mommy? Oops! The dog was out of the bag. I had somewhat lovingly been calling the little Chihuahua-looking dog that name almost the entire time. He may have been small, but he channeled every bit of it into his sub-woofing voice box. Luckily, our friends understood. They admitted that our dog did the same thing at their house when she stayed over. That is, bark at butterflies, leaves, blades of grass and babies as if they were giant, trespassing predators.

Both Gigi and Rocco had extrasensory perception of when the other was coming to stay. They would get excited on the way to each others houses. They always knew that they were going to have a good bark-a-thon. Both dogs knew that Rocco would get sofa privileges, because there was no stopping him. In fact, he had clever ways of laying all over any willing, warm body. His approach was two-fold: jump through the air onto the persons lap and bit-by-bit, maneuver more space away from them. But alas, Rocco would grow tired from so much flying. He would sit on the sofa and suddenly, his entire, tiny body would surrender to his weariness. This is the opposite side of Barko . . . Drunko.

Gigi accepted it all. Even though she had to fight for love, space, bones and prime window real estate from which to bark from, she had the doghood of being with Rocco. She was so excited to get a break from the drudgery and psychological warfare she has to endure on a daily basis from our two male cats. Playing mind games with Gigi became just a short-term memory when Rocco came to town. Instead, one cat got a lot of good, clean hissing time in, while the other got repeatedly chased by him. You could see it coming. You wanted to scream, Allen, dont show any fear! He can sense your fear! but it would nt work. The moment of hesitation was too odorous for Rocco to ignore. The chase would ensue. Even though he was barely bigger than our cat, Rocco found his fear delicious. Our other cat would place himself in strategic strong holds during the fight for surprise hiss-outs. Maybe hes in the hallway, or maybe behind the door - you could never tell. Gigi would always just wait patiently for the animal attacks to subside and the break from barking to be over.

The fighting could never last too long, however. There was always another disturbance coming along through the neighborhood streets that must be dealt with. Bark. Bark bark. More bark. Extra barks. Stereo barks. They would go back and forth. They ran side-by-side like a mini-pack from one window to the next to get the best view of the ferocious child on their bike, or the suspicious woman doing garden work. The elderly couple walking was particularly enraging for both of them. Gigi soon got her own set of nicknames. Depending on the severity of the barking, it could be Barker, Bark-too, G-Barks-A lot or even, Barksmore. The funny thing is that when it was time for Rocco to leave, and the animals to get back into their less barkerous routines, everyone would kind of miss the softer side of him, the little drunken Drunko side of Rocco.

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Written by: ccadkins
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