It was just like one in the movies.
You know what I’m talking about. Like the movie where a group of sorority girls innocently play with the Ouija board they found under the floorboards of the old Simms Mansion. You know the mansion I’m talking about. The one where Mrs. Simms died under very mysterious circumstances. All hell breaks loose, as the scantily clad girls must now fight off the demons they’ve unleashed.
Or, the movie where the happy family moves into the old farmhouse in Connecticut. While unpacking they discover a book of spells. They naturally decide that the best course of action is to read some of the spells out loud. All hell breaks loose, as the once-happy family must now fight off the demons they’ve unleashed. Why hadn’t they listened to the old gas-station attendant? Hadn’t he tried to warn them?
Anyway, I had gone into Half Price Books looking for a book on dog training. Almost immediately, an irresistible force lured me into the clearance section at the back of the store. For those that haven’t been to Half Price Books, the clearance section is tucked away in a remote corner. The shelves are stuffed with books in forgivable disarray. Similar to the “The Land of Misfit Toys,” the clearance section contains some trash and some treasure. Almost everything is $3 or less.
I stood there and examined the many titles: “Y2K, Prepare For The Worst,” “Make Money In The Coming Real Estate Boom,” and “Is You Pet Psychic? How to Develop a Psychic Connection With Your Pet.” It stood out from the other books, summoning me to take it off the shelf. And so I did. I checked the price. One dollar!
Really, how could I go wrong? It was just a dollar? I was hooked. I justified that if I could just establish a psychic connection with my dog, then I wouldn’t have to worry about training. If I wanted her to sit, I would just think, “Sit.” If I wanted her to stay, I would just think, “Stay.” If I wanted her to run down to Taco Cabana and get an order of flautas, I would just think… okay, you’ve got it by now. I bought the book and drove home giddy about the endless possibilities.
At home I opened the book. There were stories about psychic pet experiences, tests you could do, and exercises to help you develop your skills. And then it hit me. A dark thought. I’ve seen the movies. Sometimes you can enter a world and you can’t come back. Sometimes, you open doors that can’t be closed. What sort of nightmarish doggie door was I opening?
What if this was some sort of John Edwards “Crossing Over” psychic experience?
Sparky: Good Morning Milton.
Me: You wanna go out?
Sparky: Yes, but first… I’m sensing the presence of a pet… did you have a hamster whose name began with… C?
Me: Yes, Clyde! Oh, my gosh, how did you know?
Sparky: And his life ended tragically?
Me: Yes! Yes! He was sucked up into the vacuum and killed. I don’t know how he got out of his Habitrail. (Voice breaking with emotion) I always… I always… I always regretted what happened.
Sparky: He wants you to know he forgives you.
Me: Oh Clyde (I cry out), I’m so sorry!!!
Sparky: Wait there’s someone else in the room, too. Did you have a parakeet named…Petey?
Me: Oh No! Not Petey!
I’ve had too many tragic small pet experiences. I can’t bear this kind of psychic pet experience.
Here’s another worry. Once I make the connection, how do I keep this dog from getting into my head?
Me (thinking): Sparky, Sit!
Sparky: Sure, I’ll sit but I want you to sit, too. We need to talk.
Me: Uh, okay (I sit down).
Sparky: I’ve noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time on the Internet.
Me: (sheepishly) Yeah.
Sparky: Do you really think that’s the best way to spend your time? Read a book, take me for a walk, you need to get out.
Me: Well, it’s just that I…
Sparky: Milton, you’ll have plenty of time to talk. This is an intervention. Now, the goldfish has something he’d like to say…
Again, I just not sure I want this kind of connection. All sorts of scenarios come to mind. What if I fall prey to some kind of doggie mind trickery? What if while I’m peacefully sleeping the dog plants ideas in my head?
Me: Zzzzzzzzz
Sparky: Snausages. You must go get me Snausages.
Me: --Zzzzz-- I must --zzzz-- get the dog Snausages. Must get to H-E-B now…
These are the things I worry about. All I want is to teach my dog to stay, sit, and catch a Frisbee. I didn’t want to enter into some sort of weird psychic doggie demons. I quickly close the book and get on the computer. I find the Web site for San Antonio Dog Training Club. We’re going to do this the old-fashioned way. First class is next Monday.
