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My Dog is a Karen – Truck Invasion 2022


Hello everyone,


As predicted in last week’s post, Ginger, aka The Karen, faced a week’s worth of turmoil from delivery trucks. Mom and sister departed for a shopping spree just after lunch on Wednesday. Ginger assembled on the couch looking forlorn out the window for not being included.


I smiled at her disappointment, “Ya know if you could behave in public, you could go with them. Instead, you choose to bark at everything and everyone, constantly pull on the lead, and otherwise be a nuisance around other people.”


A groan of discontent rumbled from deep in her throat as she rested her chin on the back of the sofa ever glaring out the bay window.


I returned to writing the next chapter as a half hour passed. I peeked at her and found her curled on the couch where she sat before. Given the choice between finishing the chapter and cleaning the kitchen, I chose the mess of lunch dishes instead. Just as my elbows reached deep in wash water, “Aaaarrrrrooooo,” uproar came from the living room.


I peeked around the corner with my hands dripping wet and see the vile brown truck backing into the drive. The screams of torment screeched back defending our house from the Black Bart attacking the house with two boxes of death and destruction. I watched the brown invader exit stage right. It makes life easier to wait for the Karen mode to deactivate before retrieving my wife’s Christmas gifts and hiding them.


Ten more minutes of washing dishes found Ginger back on the front couch for an uneasy rest waiting for her sister and mom. I heard the first beep of a revolting white truck backing into our driveway. The Karen mode howling suffocated the sound of the rest of them. Then a different Black Bart caring dreadful box of certain death came to the front door. Then this despicable man gave a friendly wave which all Karens know this is the coup-de-gras of disrespect warranting even louder howls.


Again, I waited ten minutes for Karen mode to deactivate before retrieving the box. Looking at the insignia on this box on the porch, she spied the certain death warning. Upon closer inspection inside the house, she recognized the Chewy logo. This meant it was her box as her tail wagged and wedged herself underfoot with anticipation at the great things in it. I left it on the dining room table which reaped me another dirty look from her.


Mom opened the box and pulled out her new bed. She threw away the old one fitting the new one in its place. Ginger snuggled into it immediately and became so content, she missed the dark blue panel van backing into the drive. Mom retrieved the last gift of the day without Karen shouting her complaints. We found Thursday much quieter as she slept the day away in her new bed.


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Merry Christmas and God bless,

Danny Mac

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