This is Fargo.
Fargo has something to say.
BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! *scamper across the floor, with lots of slipping and a-sliding* BARK! BARK! BARK! AWOOOO!! *stare at door* BARK! *stare at door some more* BARK! BARK! *sit. pant.*
well hello there. you have reached the fargs. what is your emergen—I HAVE AN EMERGENCY there is someone in the hall.
the number of people in the hallway, i am told, has not changed. there are just as many people strolling up and down the halls as there always have been in this apartment building i call home (and lease out to a couple hundred of my greatest friends, though i have yet to see a lick of rent and i have been told the people with the biscuits downstairs are actually the ones in charge [clearly false, why else would they always try to give me biscuit offerings]). i do not believe those telling me this. are they accusing the fargs of not previously noticing?
the rules with hallway walkers are these: you bark at them. loudly. from behind your closed door. if you hear someone in the hallway, you lose your ever-loving mind. why do we do this? for the same reason we do anything, dear reader: pure instinct.
lately, i have been barking at the hallway a lot more (hence the people spewing lies into my own face and implying i was snoozling on the job when SNOOZLING IS THE JOB at least in the afternoon). this is not the important thing. the important thing is that the others in this apartment—the bipeds—are…not helping me? i know, i know. i’m hesitant to even write it, it seems so outlandish and impossible to comprehend. but lately, i, i alone, fargo g. the fargs (the g stands for “goodgirl”), have been protecting this home all by my lonesome. yesterday, i thought the male had finally understood. when i heard someone in the hall and began making the customary commotion, he began to make a commotion too. i was enthused. at long last, we were barking together! i barked louder. but when the time came to cease the barks (you know it’s this time when you notice that your butt itches and you’re possessed to lift your leg to scratch it with your teeth), the male continued to speak, and i realized he was saying, “No, Fargo,” which…this guy doesn’t get it, does he. i was not the one walking in the hall, dude. tell THAT person “No.”
there is an accompaniment to the person in the hallway noise, and it is often a knock on the door. this is the best part. a knock on the door often means someone is at the door, and someone being at the door always means i am about to get me some scritches.
sadly, again, my enthusiasm has gone unrewarded. earlier yesterday, before the male unjustly scolded me, we were walking down the hall together (no dogs were barking at us, must have been snoozling on the job, hmm maybe i should get their treats). we saw my dear friend (REDACTED), the maintenance man. i jumped on him and gave him kisses. we moved along. as we moved along, the maintenance man knocked on a door. someone else’s door. and this is my confession:
i still barked.
loudly.
even though it was not my door and i was not even inside my door and i was actually pretty much with the person doing the knocking.
i am sorry but WHAT IF THE KNOCK WAS SOMEONE INSIDE A DOOR ASKING TO BE LET OUT TO GIVE ME SCRITCHES?? that is a chance we could not afford to miss!
so. excuse me for being excited that someone might be there to see me. and excuse me for singing my cultural song at “inconvenient” times. i am simply a social creature. a social creature devoted to her calling. which in this case includes making a ruckus.
