dejected, ashamed, or guilty in appearance or manner
Collins Essential English Dictionary 2nd Edition 2006 © HarperCollins Publishers 2004, 2006
Woody, the landlord's dog, is a bit depressed. I guess his feelings got hurt when he found out that I named the landlord's two cats in a post, and the only mention he got was in the post that had my list of 10 honest things about myself, and his name was not even mentioned--he was only described as "the landlord's dog". To add insult to injury, I said that he yelped when I jumped on him with my claws out (well, he did!!).
And that is not the only reason he is moping around.
He now has to be on a long leash while the landlords, S and J, are at work. Woody used to have the run of the place up there, but he blew it, man! There is fencing around a large area near the landlord's house. This helps deter deer and other creatures from venturing in. Unfortunately, no matter how S and J tried to Woody-proof the fence, he kept escaping and running down the road to the neighbor's house to visit his dog girlfriend, Lola. And, when they get together...whoo-eee. Trouble. At their latest tryst, just for fun, they killed the landlord's chickens.
Now, Woody is sort of okay for a dog, although I don't quite trust him. I mean, as indicated by the aforementioned chicken episode, he can easily fall prey to a bad idea. A few times when he has been down here, he kind of tries to corner me...sort of like he wants to play (oh, he always acts all innocent), but I can never quite tell what his intentions are. I'm afraid I have to err on the side of caution (or, clawtion [heh, heh]). Which brings us back to the claws-in-the-back incident. I was up on my deck, minding my own business, when Woody walks up the steps and is looking in the screen door. First of all, that is MY job. Secondly, he just stood there like he owned the place, and way past any grace period I might have given him. So, I took a flying leap off the table right onto his back. Ooo-wee. You should have heard him yelp. He ran down the steps and headed toward home. Total overreaction (on his part, not mine). I didn't draw any blood. It was just my way of telling him to get off my balcony. Well, it must have worked, because he has never come up those steps again!
Anyway, I do sort of feel sorry for him. He is a good watchdog--he barks to keep away the bobcats and mountain lions, raccoons and who knows what else.
So, Woody. As my way of making amends, I am calling you by name in this post and I am including some photos of you. But, you still can't come up the steps. Seriously.