Do not let the wide eyes fool you into believing he’s innocent. And the gray beard does not mean he is old and feeble.
Quite the contrary. He is agile and spry. And quite the conniving little bastard.
I mean that in the nicest was possible, even though I shouldn’t since the little shit is constantly plotting the demise of me and the husband.
The Guinness Book of World Records may call the honey badger the most fearless animal in all the animal kingdom, but that’s only because they haven’t met The Cody.
Talk about not giving a shit.
Oh, you’re lying on the couch trying to watch a movie? The Cody doesn’t give a shit. He’s going to jump directly on your face.
Oh, you just put a fresh pillow case on your pillow? The Cody doesn’t give a shit. He’s going to sit his ass directly where your eye will be when you snuggle down into your sheets. It’s called pink eye, bitch!
Not convinced he’s that evil?
Look what he did to the husband awhile back.
And that was when The Cody was excited to see him.
Recently, The Cody managed to neutralize both the husband and me in a matter of seconds. We were taking him and my other dog, Sweet Riley out for a walk – that’s right, The Cody doesn’t give a shit about biting the hand that feeds him and takes him out to pee. But then, if you had the power to obliterate someone four to seven times your body weight by simply walking, would you give a shit? Probably not.
The sun was shining, but there was a breeze, finally making the temperature cooler than stroke inducing. The birds were chirping, the butterflies were dancing, the tree branches swayed happily, and a whole bunch of other stuff that sounds lovely but didn’t actually happen.
We had gotten about three steps from our door and were standing in the middle of the road. The husband was holding the dogs, Sweet Riley in his left hand, The Cody in his right. I was standing on the husband’s right side. The Cody had lagged behind us to pee on an exposed electrical wire, or something.
Suddenly he comes dashing forward, flying in front of us.
I immediately panic. Leash burn. We have those retractable leashes, and if you’ve ever had any experience with one of those slicing across your skin while the animal at the other end of the leash runs at breakneck speed, you know it hurts like a mother.
In college, the leash sliced across the back of my knee – you know, where your leg bends? – and I vowed NEVER AGAIN! would I fall victim to The Leash.
So The Cody is flying forward, running diagonally which means the leash is in direct position rip into my outer thigh. I immediately drop down, squatting in the middle of the road. The husband does the same seconds later, which I assume is because he too fears The Leash.
The Cody decides his reign of terror is not yet complete and decides to dart forward again, causing the husband’s arm to lurch forward. His arms are above my head and when his arm jerks so does his hand (duh) holding the leash, causing it to smack directly into my face, right above the eye.
I shoot up, my hand flying to my eye, which I’m confident has been split open. I’m waiting for warm blood to start running between my fingers.
I start toward the house. “Are you okay?” the husband calls out.
“No! I got hit in the face!”
Now, had I not been in the throes of my own pain, I might have heard the agony in the husband’s voice. I might have turned around and seen him bent over, hobbling toward the house.
I go inside and look in the mirror. Shockingly there is no cut, no blood, no shattered bone. I glance out of the corner of my eye and I swear I see a look of disappointment flash across The Cody’s face before returning to its normal “who me?” expression.
“Do you know what happened?” the husband asked, back inside the house too.
“Uh, yeah. I got hit in the face with the leash.”
“Yeah, but do you know why?”
I looked at The Cody. “Because that dog is a jerk and is trying to kill me.”
As it turns out, The Cody’s plan was even more devious that I thought. You see, as I fell to me knees trying to escape The Leash, my arm swung backward – as The Cody knew it would do – and made direct contact with the husband’s balls. Which was why he had also dropped to his knees.
So there the two of us were, bent over in the middle of the street with looks of agony on our faces. (And I wonder why my neighbors think we’re strange.)
Do you believe me now? The Cody is pure evil. The husband and I have no doubt that if we ever became incapacitated and are lying helplessly on the floor of our house, The Cody wouldn’t wait for us to die before ripping the flesh from our skin, helping himself to a tasty little snack.
Please note that I love my pups very very much, like an insane amount -yes even evil Cody - so please refrain from posting any animal hating comments...or I will have The Cody cut you with his talons. Just kidding. Kind of.