The Doorknob Principle

Did you know: It's possible to lead a cow upstairs, but not downstairs? The truth's crazy, huh? For one of those fabulous senior pranks, we were going to goad a cow or three up to the top floor of the oldest building on campus, only to have the authorities show up and try to lead the large meatball down... not going to happen. Fortunately for them, it didn't happen. They'd best keep their fingers crossed.

Yes. So, much like cattle, B-Boo's black and white Great Dane, Anubis, has no opposable thumbs. Giant Panda's have thumbs. Too bad Anubis isn't a giant panda, although that's probably a good thing, since there isn't much bamboo here in the desert. However, even though Anubis lacks thumbs to cook us dinner or open his closed toy chest, it's always fun to observe his anthropomorphic qualities.

B-Boo, like all animal owners in any city, is crazy about her four legged child. She's dressed him up as a convict and even pranced around as a milking cow. I do admit, I participate every now and then...

The other day I'm in B-Boo's plum-walled living room. There's a large grey sofa with rolled arms, and a smaller chair next to it. Sitting on the sofa, my neck hairs raise. Someone's watching me; I look over my left shoulder. It's Anubis. The jackal dog's eyes move. He gazes up, head not budging an inch. He's depressed. Grabbing my Freudian glasses, I decide I'll get to the bottom of dog psychology.

I ask if he's being punished. Maybe B-boo found out he was caught by the FBI while ordering Anthrax fraudulently through the mail, pretending to be a cow named Daisy. I imagine the letter went something like Eddie Izzard's: “Dear Sir, my name is Daisy, and I am a cow. I wish to take my own life, so please send me three buckets of Anthrax, as Anthrax is designed to kill cattle and I want to end it all right now. P.S.: I cannot shoot myself as I have no opposable thumbs.” Nah... it couldn't be that, since the dog just shook his head.

I bite my lip trying to read his body language. Should I grab the meal bell? Maybe he didn't like someone watching him go #2 outside. Before starting, he always checks over both shoulders, confirming the coast is clear from all sides. Nah, that's a little far fetched, I mean, who likes watching a dog void himself in the grass?

He continues to lie there in a ball of dichromatic fur, head sadly propped on the chair arm. I speculate he got caught sneaking out of the house in B-Boo's car, Gerbils, to shack up with the prissy poodle down the street. His shoes and rain coat are missing after all, so it's plausible. His eyes move again, indicating that my reasoning is off - it hasn't rained for a few months.

I ask if his hidden poochie boudoir pictures were absconded from under his bed by the local squirrels. No... that couldn't be it either, not even tree rodents are that cruel. I look around, searching for clues. Then I notice he has his doggie mitts on and a black mask lying next to him. Looking at the hallway door, I see that there are dirt marks about the size of his paws, but no actual paw prints for identification. That sly beast, the shoes prevented him from leaving prints.

Jumping up, I point a finger toward the ceiling and say, "AH-HA! I know what it is! I bet you're imitating the raccoons again, and playing 'Cat Burglar' while no one is around. You're trying to figure out how to turn door knobs without thumbs again, weren't you!?" He must have been sent on an undercover mission to gain further knowledge of the mysterious Doorknob Principle. Humans with opposable thumbs have been using this principle for centuries. Now... the dogs are conspiring against us. I execute a suspicious glare at him, letting him know I've caught on to his shenanigans.

Just then, B-Boo comes around the corner, leash in hand, and cheerfully calls his name for a walk. Getting up, he shows me his hind leg shoes, and she tells me they're to protect his feet from the hot sidewalk. Riiiiight. I know they're in cahoots.

They go to the door and I follow. Just before walking out, he looks back at me and deliberately gives me a coy eyebrow raise, lifts his tail to expose his buttocks, "You don't know me!" he seemed to say, and they leave. I go back to inspect the door knob to see if its been tampered with, only to discover suspicious prints the size of cat feet...