Dogs defeated, finals beware

HOW HOLLEY SEES IT
by HOLLEY BARKER

I can proudly say I'm smarter than a dog.

I'm smarter than two dogs, to be exact, and this new revelation of intelligence has come just in the nick of time. With finals just two weeks away, my newly found brilliance will be very beneficial to my test performances.

For the past two months, I have fought day and night with my two dogs. Although their cuddly exterior may signify innocence, the criminal minds of these two canines can't be overlooked.

In order to protect their identities and self-esteem, I'll refer to them as Boris and Natasha. Yes, I realize that makes me Bullwinkle in the scenario, but even antlers can't get me down now.

Boris, my esteemed peek-a-poo, is the criminal component of the eight-legged operation. His French ancestry has blessed him with an innate gift for strategic planning, not to mention his ability to romance the opposite sex. I'm pretty sure he's related to Napoleon's dog.

Natasha, a streetsmart boxer, has the legs and savvy to pull off any scheme. She's the sexy sidekick every master criminal employs. Natasha's previous life as a junkyard dog gives the duo an edge.

Despite the five-foot chain link fence that surrounds my house, Boris and Natasha manage to escape the backyard on a daily basis. Once escaped, they meet me at the front door for a treat and proceed to fulfill their much desired status of house dogs.

For two long months I watched, wondered and remained puzzled while the dogs proved their ability to outwit me. I'm well aware I'm no Einstein, but something was still dramatically wrong with this picture.

My dogs were outsmarting me and something had to be done - war was the only logical answer. So last week, after late nights of plotting and studying the K-9 mind, I was ready for action.

Wednesday, at 1900 hours I put the dogs in the backyard. Then, I immediately went upstairs to take my station on the balcony that overlooks the yard.

I watched and waited while Boris and Natasha carried out seemingly dog-like activities, obviously a decoy to their real intent. Peeing on bushes and romping in the grass wasn't going to fool me.

Suddenly, Boris looked up and smirked. My cover was blown! He played it cool a little longer then escaped. I'd missed the big moment - damn dog. Foiled again!

But luckily Natasha wasn't so swift. She made a running dive for a rather large hole in the fence.

I had won. By 8 p.m. the fence was fixed and the "Dawson's Creek" theme song had begun. Life was good.

Some of you may be flabbergasted as to why I wrote an entire column on my criminal-minded dogs and non-existent life. It's a question I've asked myself many times. Maybe it was the product of procrastination or boredom. Or maybe it's something more.

Readers, I've told this story to give all of you a sense of hope. There will be times when your intelligence is tested, especially with finals just around the corner. Just remember you're smarter than someone out there.

I'm smarter than a dog, two to be exact, and that's all I need to know. My political science final obviously doesn't stand a chance.