Great Barking Boiler Inspections!

, , , , | Friendly | November 6, 2020

When I am seventeen and still living at home, our boiler is due for a safety inspection, required by our insurance company. We receive the usual timeframe: the person doing the inspection might show up anywhere between 10:00 am and 6:00 pm on a particular day.

My dad has to run an errand, and since, in his experience, such a time frame usually means waiting all day and the expected person not showing up until at least 5:30 pm, he figures he probably will be fine if he leaves early. Just in case, he leaves me with instructions to stay home, and if the inspector does show up, to show them the paperwork he left on the kitchen counter.

Of course, the laws of the universe mean that, as soon as my dad is out of sight, the inspector shows up.

We have two dogs: a dachshund and a wirehair german pointer, a hunting dog that can look a bit intimidating. They are both friendly dogs, but whereas the dachshund only barks at squirrels, the pointer considers himself our family’s and house’s guardian and greets any unknown person entering our house with a few deep, firm, loud barks. He won’t do anything more than bark — like I said, he is actually a friendly fellow — but realizing visitors might easily be scared by him, we usually let him into the fenced-in backyard before letting people he doesn’t know into the house. The yard side of our living room has large windows through which dog and visitor can see each other, and once each is convinced the other is not a threat, we let the dog back in.

When the doorbell rings today, I let the pointer into the yard and go into the hallway to answer the door. The dachshund follows me, being an adorable people-lover. When the boiler inspector sees him saunter up to him, tail wagging, he chuckles and makes a joke.

Inspector: “Ah, a big, ferocious guard dog!”

Me: “No, that’s the welcoming committee. The big ferocious guard dog is in the yard. My dad wanted me to show you some paperwork; it’s in the kitchen.”

I lead him to the kitchen, and we have to go through the living room. As soon as our pointer sees the inspector, he lets out his loud, deep, “don’t you dare mess with my human” bark.

The inspector is suddenly a lot less cocky.

Inspector: “Oh… Yeah, that is a big ferocious guard dog.”

And people wondered why my dad wasn’t worried about letting a seventeen-year-old girl walk that dog at night alone.

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