I sometimes receive Facebook messages about my column. More accurately, I get messages about my dogs. They are more popular than I am.
Well, it was no surprise when I got a message asking how my dogs were.
Apparently, I hadn’t written about them lately and they were curious.
So, I decided to tell the story of Roswell and the remote-control car
Roswell loves interaction in his playing. He likes to attack the broom or the mop. If we move around furniture, you can bet he dives on it and attacks
It’s cute to watch. Not so cute when you are trying to mop or sweep.
So, this past weekend, I saw a $10 remote control car for sale while shopping at Walmart. I was cutting through toys to make my way to Hardware from Garden Center and there it was.
It kind of stuck out. Or as I heard in a movie once… It was just meant to happen
We had talked about buying an RC car just to see Roswell’s reaction but wasn’t sure about spending a large sum on something that he might not show interest in.
Let’s be honest, I wanted one even if Roswell didn’t.
So, I got home and put in the batteries. I took Roswell outside and started her up.
Roswell doesn’t just run down the steps like my other dogs. He leaps like a parajumper would out of an airplane and then starts running the second his paws touch the ground.
From there it’s a dead sprint to the far fence before running back.
This time, halfway there I started the car.
Roswell stopped mid-run, changed direction, and headed for the moving car.
He stopped and stared at it as it moved.
Then he pounced.
As he nipped, I would move the car in other directions.
He would adjust and nip again at the wheels.
He was in heaven.
But it was just a $10 toy car. Big wheels and about the size of my hand. And probably weighed about 2 pounds at best.
He grabbed one of the wheels just right and pulling back, he flung the car about 15 feet.
He ran after the car and did it again.
And a third time before I got the car from him.
I set it on a shelf, and we went in, but I fear I created a monster.
This morning, I opened the door to let him out. He raced for the car, was just able to pull it off the shelf and fling it.
He is now looking at me and the remote as if to say…
The car won’t drive itself.