10-4 Magazine October 2024

flailed about, the amount of sweat that is forming on his forehead, and the volume of his voice. I think he’s also protesting loudly about this D.C.’s preposterous rules regarding pets. My driver makes me so proud to be his dog. To be honest, I don’t think he will be proud of me when I piddle on the truck floor after involuntarily combusting from the stress on my bladder. I must start barking – it is the only acceptable course of action as a urinary implosion is imminent. My driver’s finally heading back to our rig, and I don’t mind one bit him almost tearing the truck’s passenger door off opening it and reaching for my collar and leash. I think I’m piddling a bit now with excitement as he lets me jump out of the truck. The anti-pet policy suddenly doesn’t seem to be a factor as we head briskly towards the very sign that forbids me or any dog to touch the hallowed grounds of the D.C. But I’m going to pass out if I don’t relieve myself soon. “Go here boy.” That’s certainly a command I can follow, just as if the master in the dash box had ordered me to. Turns out that emptying my bladder on a signpost puts my driver in a much better mood as he’s suddenly laughing out loud. All I know is the strain I felt internally these long hours is dissolving as I water the post. I am quite aware to always watch every mirror on the truck as my driver goes back to surfing his phone with eyes slowly glazing over in squirrel-like fashion. Suddenly, one of those shifty, neon-yellow clad, clipboard carrying humans is approaching our truck! These are people that might knock on our door, which is not allowed, in the canine code. I immediately begin barking with a roar that would de-scale most goldfish phone users, especially those playing games involving candy. Perhaps it was my loud alarm that woke up my enthralled 10-4 Magazine / October 2024 57 driver, but more than likely it was my knocking his cell phone on the floor, when I attempted to jump on his lap. I’ve been told to stop barking (with swearing included) and to get my front feet off my driver’s lap. Clipboard man looked concerned when my teeth clicked and slid on the window, and then some dog slobber fell on his head. My point is made, though, so I’ll wait in the bunk to see what happens. Things are most assuredly getting louder as my driver talks to clipboard man from the truck. Amidst the growling from my driver, I heard him demand detention. This can happen when my driver has lost his mind sitting and decides to make others pay for the time he spends being a goldfish on the phone. Seems like a good thing, but I think he’d rather be driving. I notice my driver has become quiet as he listens to the clipboard man. I can tell his heart rate is increasing and he’s breathing slowly and intensely. I think about barking to make him smile again, but think twice about that one. His jovial attitude from when the trailer shifted once has disappeared, and I notice his hand has moved from resting on the shifter to gripping the wheel with both hands. His knuckles are white like they were when we were slipping down I-70 last winter in Colorado and the trailer went one way and the truck another. Clipboard man is still standing there as I hear a rumbling coming from my driver, which is on par with my rumblings before a good barking session. Suddenly, he startles me as he jumps out of the truck and slams the door while clipboard man is attempting to slink away. I think my driver is a bit upset about hearing from the yellow vested man that he must pay lumper fees before they unload our trailer (something they neglected to inform him before we left the shipper). My understanding about a lumper, from listening to my driver, is they are a bunch of humans who gather around a dock door in secret waiting for a driver to dock. Then, unbeknown to him and the shipper, yell “Surprise!” to my driver and expect him to happily pay them to unload our trailer. I don’t recall my driver ever being happy about lumpers, quite the opposite, but maybe he doesn’t understand their playful intentions. Maybe if they threw a ball, too, it would improve things, but I digress. I think this is getting rather ugly between my driver and the loathsome clipboard man, but it’s not my concern, as no one is touching or trying to get into my truck. One must know what’s important in life. My red ball has just rolled off the bunk onto the floor, but I think I will leave it there. I realized that today I have played with my toys, piddled on a signpost (which deserved it), and scratched my ear that had been itching for a while now. As I stare towards the front of the truck, my driver and clipboard man throw their hands around, the volume of their voices increases, and they start to stand closer together. Then, an epiphany strikes me. I’m wondering, if my driver obeys every command given to him by his master in the box on the dash, is there a “FEED THE DOG” option in the menus? n