Hello. I am Cruiser. I am half St. Bernard, which means I am large, and half Bernese Mountain Dog, which means I am fluffy. I have been informed that I drink water wrong.
Here is how I drink water:
I drink like I have never had water before. Like water was invented this morning. Like Dad might take it away at any moment. I put my whole face in the bowl — not my mouth, my face — and I go. Loud. Sloppy. Water goes everywhere. On the floor, on the wall, on my chest, on my ears, on the ceiling, probably. I do not know how it gets on the ceiling. It does.
When I am done, the bowl is empty, the floor is a lake, and I am happy. Dad gets a towel. Dad always gets a towel. Dad has a lot of towels now. I do not know why.
Sequoia says I am being “dramatic.” Sequoia drinks like she just ran a marathon. Small sips, quick, purposeful, not one drop out of the bowl. She looks at me like I’m the problem. I am not the problem. I am just thirsty. I am always thirsty. That is the fun of it.
Hilux drinks like he is at a fancy restaurant. A thousand-dollar-plate restaurant. He barely sips. Like a horse. Quiet. Peaceful. Elegant. When Hilux drinks, the room is calm. When I drink, the room is a weather event. Hilux says this is Code 1. I do not know what that means, but I am proud of him.
I do not understand Hilux’s method. There is water. You must *attack* the water. This is obvious to me. It is not obvious to Hilux. Hilux is the police. I respect the police. But I do not respect the way the police drinks.
— Cruiser
St. Bernard / Bernese Mountain Dog / Wet / Very Good Boy
Full Code Appendix filed here →
### HILUX — DEAR DIARY, DAY 3549
By: Officer Obnoxious (Hilux)
Day 3549. Season 10 of the sky raisins.
Today I observed Cruiser at the water bowl. Code 9. Code 9 is “Cruiser is at the water bowl.” I have written this code down many times. I will write it down many more.
Cruiser does not drink water. Cruiser *fights* water. And loses, and keeps fighting. There is water on the floor, water on the wall, water on Cruiser. Dad gets a towel. Dad is a good officer. Dad cleans up after code 9s. I do not clean up after code 9s. I am the one who files them.
Sequoia drinks like she has a purpose. Quick. Clean. Nothing out of the bowl. This is Code 5. Approved. Suspicious. She is efficient. It is the way I would drink if I drank like a normal dog. But I do not. I drink like I am at a one-thousand-dollar-plate restaurant. This is Code 1. Slow. Quiet. Peaceful. A sip. A pause. A sip. The room stays calm. I am the calm in the room. Someone has to be.
I do not have a Thing on my neck. I am the Thing on everyone else’s neck. I have said this. I will say it again.
Also I dug today. Not the whole way to China. That is Sequoia’s job. I dug a small, official hole. For patrol.
Filed under: water, patrol.
— Officer Obnoxious
Husky. Alaskan/Siberian. In charge, allegedly.
Full Code Appendix filed here →