“Every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings.” That’s fine and dandy little miss Zuzu Bailey, but in our house, every time a bell rings the dog wants to go out, and he ain’t no angel. We have a Christmas bell that was hung on the door handle of our backdoor several years of decorating ago, that for one reason or another, was never undecorated.

Who needs The Ring Home Security System? Ours rings, it’s low-cost, low-tech, and in the event of a home invasion, its “dingalingringaling” gives me ample enough warning to limber up a bit before grabbing my baseball bat and bum rushing the burglar in my birthday suit. In my experience, baseball bat or not, most people run away from, rather than towards, a naked man.

I have my dads old 30-30 lever-action rifle next to the bed as well, but I’d hate to wake up the dog. Besides, the click-clack of the lever-action, snap of the hammer, and the hot shell casings flying about, could potentially leave one in a state of undress in duress. There’s a reason that a shirt was optional, but pants were standard issue for John Rambo. Once bitten, twice shy.

As I explained a few columns ago, in a state of confusion, delusion, and general dimwittedness, we got a dog. We trained that dog to ring the jingle bell on the door knob with his nose when he wants or needs to go outside. Yeah…cute.

In hindsight, it seems more likely that he has trained us to stop relaxing on the couch and get up to open the door at the simple ring of a bell. It’s kind of like when your child first begins to speak, it’s cute, and then they start lodging complaints and demands. The bell may be part of the undecorating this holiday season?

I am a very patient person, a patients that Wilson has taken upon himself to test regularly. To date, I’d say I have a tenuous C-minus on his tests. Not failing, not passing with flying colors, just a fair bit below middling. Room to rise, room to fall. We shall see which way the tail wags.

Wilson’s predecessor, Pre, was an obedient Black Lab ruled by his stomach, that was perfectly content to roam and laze about in his ample area of confinement in our fenced backyard. Wilson is not content with the ample area of confinement in our fenced backyard. His hobby, climbing the previously mentioned fence to chase deer around the neighborhood, has pitted man against beast.

The man has spent several lovely days, days that wanted to be viewed from the seat of his mountain bike, installing an extension to the existing fence to thwart the beast’s hobby. The beast is content to laze about and watch the man, and borrow one of the man’s favorite leather gloves to chew on while the man is concerning himself with fence construction and muttering words that sound vaguely like “sit” to the beast.

Smugly satisfied with his efforts to outsmart the beast with his superior human intellect, the man heads out to enjoy what’s left of a lovely day from the seat of his mountain bike. While the man and his mountain bike drive to a trail to ride, a text from a kindly neighbor finds its way to the man’s phone, “Wilson’s chasing deer through the neighborhood.”

The man grits his teeth, changes course, and heads to the hardware store. Buys more fencing, a fresh pair of leather gloves, and a bag of jerky to mash mirthlessly between his gritted teeth and pacify his bruised superior human intellect.

The beast, happy to see the man return, greets him playfully, eagerly “sits” and “shakes” for a piece of jerky, sniffs the new gloves, and contently lazes about while the man attempts to engage the fence in conversation. So it goes.

Don’t tell the beast, but the man secretly admires his intrinsic motivation, ingenuity, and problem-solving skills in overcoming any and all societally generated and arbitrarily constructed obstacles specifically designed to stifle the expression of who the beast truly is.

Who are you…truly? Happy Holidays.