His Master’s Conqueror

Wrote this a few years ago as part of a 3 perspective series:

So here I am, in my favourite spot on the lounge. I’ve sole control of the T.V. remote (between my teeth) and watching Harry’s Practice. My eyelids have drooped and I’m almost in sleep mode. What can I say I have the life.

Well I would have if I didn’t have this chip in my head.

Oh oh! Here comes Master with the T.V. Guide. He’s flipping through the pages. He looks up from the page he is reading and I brace myself for the inevitable.

“BRUIZER! OFF! NOW!” What does he expect, that because I’m suddenly super intelligent, that I’m going to obey him more. Pu-lease! I just know better how to get around him.

Trying to bide time, I begin to work my charm on Master, who put this thing in me. Why am I always the guinea pig for his stupid experiments?

I’d have thought he’d give up after the last experiment. Trying to turn me, a proud rotty in my own right, into a Chihuahua. Why bother!

I’m looking at Master with feigned sad pathetic eyes. He’s still not convinced, so I give a tiny wine and drop my chin on the couch on top of the remote control which is now perched between my paws.

Master snatches the remote from under my chin, and flips the Channel over to Fox 8 and I’m bombarded with bright coloured images of the Simpsons. The one plus about this chip – I can now see things in colour.

“Come on, Bruizer,” Master says a little softer. “You know you’re not allowed on the furniture.

Bugga! My plan backfired.

So I play deaf and pretend I didn’t hear him. I’m looking out the corner of my eye to see if Master is watching. He’s not impressed.

Bugga! He’s pointing at the floor and is looking quite stern. It’s not going to work this time.

I slowly rise from my comfy spot on the couch and made one last attempt with my eyes to convince Master to let me stay.

He’s rolling up the T.V. Guide. Oh oh, I know what’s coming. I crouch down as I practically fall to the floor.

Master unrolls the T.V. Guide and continues to flick through the channels. With I small wine I beg him telepathically to put it back to Harry’s Practice, but Master doesn’t seem to understand.

“Good boy,” Master praises me. I smile and wag my stumpy tail.
“John!” Who’s that? I raise my floppy black ear to listen. “Dinner’s ready!”

That’s Mistress! I wag my tiny tail again?

“Can you, bring it in here Darl? Theres a thing on the National Geographic Channel that I want to watch.”

“Can’t you tape it, love?” Mistress calls from the kitchen.
“Alright, Dear” Master sighs and hunts around the lounge room for the VCR remote. “Give me a second, Dear.” Master pushes a button on the remote control and leaves.

I snatch up the remote control and resume my lying on the couch.

Sweet! Now if I could just find Harry’s Practice again.

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