Normally, when my folks decide to vacate the premises for a few days and leave the most important member of their pack behind, they drop me at the local canine resort. I stay behind because I suffer from an anxiety disorder which began when my original pack left me high and dry as a puppy, wandering in the wilderness. This disorder manifests in a stomach-churning bout of projectile…well, you get the picture. As do my folks. So they let sleeping dogs lie.
Recently, they left and I, having not been dropped off at the spa, was left wondering. My primary concern, naturally, was where my next meal was coming from. Hunger was already beginning to set in, and the cycle was starting: worry – anger – panic – hallucinations – lunacy.
Then, it happened. I saw a shadow from an object flying overhead. It was silently circling my backyard, becoming ever larger as it descended. I immediately thought it was a vulture, coming to feed on my tasty Aussie carcass after I died of hunger. But I was shocked to see a package drop from the thing’s belly, and I had to move quickly to avoid being thumped on the head. I approached it cautiously and sniffed. It smelled very familiar, so I ripped the package open and found a baggie of my dog food. Then, after chowing down of course, I started to put it all together.
Dad had been reading and talking a lot about the private use of drone aircraft. Drones have been used for surveillance and for dropping things like bombs and – apparently, dog food. So, in his quest to save a few bucks on the dog spa, he spent – with characteristic logic- a few hundred grand on one of these infernal contraptions. Nice. Now I am not only abandoned by my pack, but devoid of any human contact. Well, not exactly. When the food dropped, I heard what was obviously Dad’s recorded voice coming from the beast. It said, “Here’s your dinner, Flap. Be good, we’ll see you soon..” You gotta love the personal touch. There was more in the recorded message, but I stopped listening. He just kept droning on.
I knew he was watching from a remote location via the drone’s onboard cameras, so I saluted his ingenuity by lifting my leg on the remains of his carefully wrapped package. I may be low-tech, but when it comes to communication, I’ve got a leg up on him.