Busta

Busta, my dog, was laying on the rug in front of the door when I came into the living to leave for work.

I asked him, “Why the long face?” Not expecting a response. More a gesture to please me than an actual question to be answered. I always disliked leaving my buddy home alone.

Busta instantly sat up, scratched his head with his back paw, and in a light soprano-type voice, “I was just trying to decide whether to go out of the bathroom window or the kitchen window, today. You've been keeping the patio door locked, lately”.

I did a double-take and wondered if I was imagining. Did that dog just speak to me? I tested him by asking him another question. “Did you just speak to me in human language?” I asked. Hoping he would not answer, in human language.

He stood, walked over, put both paws on my thigh, looked me directly in my eyes, and spoke.

“Yes, yes I did just speak to you, in “dog talk”, not “human language.” Taking his paws down and jumping on the sofa, he sat and continued his dialogue with me. “So you can understand me, huh?” my Cocker Spaniel asked. Looking deeply interested in my reply. He wagged his tail slowly from side to side and waited.

I stood searching my mind for an answer, shocked beyond reason. Lifting my chin and looked around the room for sound devices or speakers of any kind. I wondered if I was suddenly losing my mind.

I looked back at Busta, who was waiting patiently on the sofa for an answer. He only moved his furry tail.

I quickly spun around and went back into the kitchen. Checking the window above the sink. Strange, slightly open. Walking into the hallway to the bathroom, I checked the window over the shower stall. It too was ajar. Busta stood in the doorway of the bathroom wagging his tail wearing a huge smile on his face. Nonsense, I thought to myself, dogs can’t smile, they don’t have any lips. They can’t talk either.

I rushed back to the kitchen, knees shakey, pulled out a chair, and sat down. The dog slowly walked into the kitchen and sat down in front of me, tilting his head to the side all the while looking at me with that doggy smile.

“All right, since you can speak human, can you read minds too?” Busta laughed. “Naw”.

He tilted his head in the opposite position, continuing to stare me down.

At that point, I had so many questions. “Is this normal, first off?” I asked him. Setting my travel cup on the kitchen table and crossing my legs.

“Is what normal, Stan?” he asked.

“Talking dogs. Is that normal?” I asked.

“Normal for who, Stan?”

“Oh, so you are a smarty-ass dog?”

“I guess so," was Busta's snide reply.

“How often do you leave this house, Busta?” I wasn’t just asking my dog a few questions, I was literally demanding answers.

“Where do you go when you leave? How long have you been leaving? What do you do while you are out there?”

“Whew!” Bust expressed before answering.

He sat looking away from me, “Let me see, now. Well, I leave every day that you leave. I usually go to hang out with Pappy Jones, the golden retriever down the street. He has parties every single day! Let me tell you. Sometimes I go visit Charlotte, she’s a Vietnamese Pot-bellied, lives with her grandma human, or is that human grandma? They always have delicious human food. I also mess around near the park. Sometimes for the heck of it, we chase squirrels in Mr. O’s backyard."

He went on to describe his daily routine. As I sat and shuddered in utter amazement, I realized, Busta was a smarty-ass dog!

"Oh yeah, and, how long have I been leaving? Hmmm, since I was a pup… I guess four or five years now? Stan, let’s be fair here, I am not good with the dog’s years and the human years… I get mixed up with trying to finger it all out. You do understand? I mean, I am a dog. Hey, I don't know math." Sitting straight up on the sofa.

"One more thing, Stan, sometimes when I return home tired and bushed out, I take a nap. Umm huh, in your bed, at the head, too.” He met me with another doggy smile.

“Did I answer all of your questions, Stan?” he asked while happily wagging his fluffy tail.

I sat there, at that table, and looked at that dog and wondered how I was supposed to get past what had just happened. I stared at Busta, completely without words, dumbfounded.

“Well, if it's consolation to you, Stan, I won’t speak human to you. I will just speak to you in doggy talk. You don’t seem to be handling this very well. So, if you will forget I ever s-a-i-d anything... I will continue to speak like a dog and just bark from now on. Will you be okay with that, Stan?”

I nodded yes. I could not think of a single thing to say to my best buddy. I would not spill his secret though. I picked up my cup and started out the door. I turned to tell him “goodbye for now”, as usual. He stood on his hind paws and barked three times, as usual.

I walked outside just remembering that I'd forgotten to scold Busta for leaving home unattended. Refusing to go back inside, thinking that the discussion may have caused an argument. I was not prepared to engage in an argument with my dog. I got into my car, and in utter silence, drove to work.

With the incident still fresh on my mind, I could not help to wonder what gives with my dog, my best buddy, talking to me in human language. Sarcastically, I remembered Kendall, who believes he knows everything about everything. So I asked my know-it-all co-worker if he'd ever experienced a conversation with his dog in human language.

“Sure have!” was his reply. I was confused.

"Does it bother you that he can speak human?”

“Yes, it does, but not as bad as it bothers Sabrina.”

“Who is Sabrina, your girl?” I just wanted to know.

“No”, he snapped. “My cat!”

We had a good laugh and finished our workday. Happy pet owners.

If you ever want to know what your dog or cat or any pet is thinking, you should ask them. You might get a surprising answer, in human language.