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My dog hates baseball
Oct. 24th, 2007 09:45 am My poor dog.
The World Series starts tonight and for at least the next five days I'll sit on in one corner of the couch, transfixed, mesmerized and anxiously awaiting each pitch after which I shall either sigh, swear, seethe, celebrate, or simply exhale in exasperation all of which will be done as quietly and as under my breath as possibly. This is because the living room, which has the television, sits directly underneath my two young boys' room where they will be sleeping. What has this to do with my dog? He is, unfortunately, one of the most neurotic animals I've known and, for him, Red Sox games of any magnitude are an unspeakable torture. You see, if I exhibit any sort of displeasure, however quietly, my dog will hear, even if I whisper "goddammit" and he is all the way on the other side of the house. When he hears this he will leap to his feet and come running to where ever I am, his tail between his legs, his head lowered and obsessively licking. I am quite understanding with him whenever he does this. "Frodo! Stop licking!" I'll snarl. Which of course helps immensely. Well, you might say, hopefully for the dog, the Sox will win and Frodo will be calm and happy. No, because even when good things happen in the game and I cheer, the dog's reaction is the same as if I were standing up, cursing at the tv and throwing a pillow (which I can't say has ever happened. really.)
I'm not sure when this behavior started except that it goes back at least as far as 2003. When I used to listen to games online the dog would become apoplectic with fear whenever former Sox broadcaster Jerry Trupiano let out one of his "Waay Back!" calls. I really don't know why. Fortunately for Frodo Trupiano no longer does play by play and I know watch the games online. Frodo is much happier with Don Orsillo's more muted play-by-play.
This isn't to say that the dog is perfectly content when Red Sox games aren't on. He has quite a few phobias. Thunder and fireworks, for instance will cause him to hide behind the bathroom door. Wind upsets him more than anything you can imagine (the wind once slammed a door shut in our house and Frodo has never forgotten that day). Trees gently swaying. The top of the basement steps. Child gates. Red Sox games, though, are probably at the top of the list and it has something to do with me. My wife, Haddayr, can yell, scream, swear, just about anything and the dog will act as if nothing is happening. Me? I let out a barely audible shit or goddammit and you would think that the gates of hell had opened in our house and the devil himself had come to take the dog. We've actually experimented with this and demonstrated it to friends.
So, for at least the next five days and probably longer, my dog's life will be hell as the baseball season comes to a close. After which, Frodo can again breathe easy with the knowledge that life is once again good. That is until the next gentle breeze causes the trees to sway.
The World Series starts tonight and for at least the next five days I'll sit on in one corner of the couch, transfixed, mesmerized and anxiously awaiting each pitch after which I shall either sigh, swear, seethe, celebrate, or simply exhale in exasperation all of which will be done as quietly and as under my breath as possibly. This is because the living room, which has the television, sits directly underneath my two young boys' room where they will be sleeping. What has this to do with my dog? He is, unfortunately, one of the most neurotic animals I've known and, for him, Red Sox games of any magnitude are an unspeakable torture. You see, if I exhibit any sort of displeasure, however quietly, my dog will hear, even if I whisper "goddammit" and he is all the way on the other side of the house. When he hears this he will leap to his feet and come running to where ever I am, his tail between his legs, his head lowered and obsessively licking. I am quite understanding with him whenever he does this. "Frodo! Stop licking!" I'll snarl. Which of course helps immensely. Well, you might say, hopefully for the dog, the Sox will win and Frodo will be calm and happy. No, because even when good things happen in the game and I cheer, the dog's reaction is the same as if I were standing up, cursing at the tv and throwing a pillow (which I can't say has ever happened. really.)
I'm not sure when this behavior started except that it goes back at least as far as 2003. When I used to listen to games online the dog would become apoplectic with fear whenever former Sox broadcaster Jerry Trupiano let out one of his "Waay Back!" calls. I really don't know why. Fortunately for Frodo Trupiano no longer does play by play and I know watch the games online. Frodo is much happier with Don Orsillo's more muted play-by-play.
This isn't to say that the dog is perfectly content when Red Sox games aren't on. He has quite a few phobias. Thunder and fireworks, for instance will cause him to hide behind the bathroom door. Wind upsets him more than anything you can imagine (the wind once slammed a door shut in our house and Frodo has never forgotten that day). Trees gently swaying. The top of the basement steps. Child gates. Red Sox games, though, are probably at the top of the list and it has something to do with me. My wife, Haddayr, can yell, scream, swear, just about anything and the dog will act as if nothing is happening. Me? I let out a barely audible shit or goddammit and you would think that the gates of hell had opened in our house and the devil himself had come to take the dog. We've actually experimented with this and demonstrated it to friends.
So, for at least the next five days and probably longer, my dog's life will be hell as the baseball season comes to a close. After which, Frodo can again breathe easy with the knowledge that life is once again good. That is until the next gentle breeze causes the trees to sway.
