The straw that broke the camel's chair

I'll be the first to admit that my house is not especially furnished to accomodate company. The living room is decked out with his n' hers easy chairs, a table for our drinks, and a TV. Then there's the roaming decoration to consider, and by that I mean bad dog Snickers.

Snickers weighs roughly 65 pounds, but has it fixed in his mind that he is a lap dog. He'll jump up into the chairs when they're not occupied, but he's not too keen on jumping into a lap. Instead, he gets his paws up in your lap, and then scrambles his big-butt self on the front of the chair, a look of, uh, dogged determination on his face, until he finally gets a foot hold and can fully dominate the chair with you under him. Sure, we could put up the footrest and make it easy for him, but when did that ever build character?

Anyway, last night Jim and I were watching TV and he reclined in his chair, which reclined a whole lot further than he had intended. We both chuckled as the chair kept going back and back, and when he was nearly upside down, he remarked, "Gonna hafta tighten that spring."

That reminded me of the time, about ten years and three easy chairs ago, when his inferior chair betrayed him. I was talking to a friend on the phone, and the last thing she heard before I hung up abruptly was, "I have to go, Jim just tipped over in his chair!"

I mentioned the cherished memory to Jim and we had a few laughs. Then Snickers decided to insert his presence into the proceedings. As the footrest was abnormally high in the air, he decided it was best to board Jim's chair from the side, and he came around the arm and started wiggling his way up over Jim's shoulders.

In retrospect, we probably should have made him stop climbing, but if you could see the look on his face while he's determined to get up there, you wouldn't be able to stop him either, because you'd be laughing too hard. He finally got himself on top of Jim, and at first seemed actually prepared to lay down and be still. Oh, yeah, that's a crack-pipe dream, to be sure. The dog simply cannot resist standing up when he's perched himself on top of a person in a chair.

As Snickers stood, I could see the chair start to go, and there was no way I was going to be there in time to do anything about it. Jim, reacting more quickly than I was, managed to get his hands behind him and grab the wall before the chair went completely. As he balanced the chair, himself, and the dog, he looked over at me and grinned, as if to say, "Situation firmly in hand, madame."

Then Snickers, all 65 tri-colored pounds of him, fell onto Jim's face.

To Jim's credit, he was still able to brace himself so the chair didn't completely collapse, but his hands looked a lot more squished against the wall at that point. In case you're wondering, I did finally make it over to help him right the chair. I'm just not saying I hurried, either. 'Cause if there's one thing that's funnier than a man tipped over in his easy chair, it's a tipped fellow with a 65-pound, surprised looking dog on his face.