I got some junk mail today.

Yeah, I know.  Everyone gets junk mail.  Welcome to the land where Big Paper desperately claws and scrapes with white knuckled intensity to remain relevant by partnering with smegma crusted doosh bags in littering our mail boxes with wonderful opportunities to switch our antiquated cable and home phone service to companies who won’t leave us the hell alone, even though we’ve called them repeatedly to stop sending us such unwanted offers.

That little red squiggly line up there tells me that I should remind you that my spelling of that word is done so not out of ignorance.  Instead it’s spelled that way because to spell it correctly conveys the message from me, your universally trusted blogger, that I feel in some way that the actions and ideas of this vast collection of turd burglars actually hold water.

They don’t, so I won’t ascribe their behavior to a vessel designed to do so.

By now, I’ve mentioned it a couple of times in passing.  Spectrum‘s ability to discontinue junk mail to those of us who choose not to purchase their services is woefully inept.

That’s all I’ll say at this point, as I’m not here today to rant about them.  Instead, I’ll be waxing poetically about my last encounter with these people prior to today’s successful deposit of a fabulous bundled services offer placed phlegmatically in my communal mailbox by another antiquated outfit.

Sometime last month, a salesman from Spectrum came knocking on my door in an effort to save me and my neighbors some money.  I refused the offer, and emphatically voiced my frustrations with his employer and their pathetic inability to reign in their mailing campaigns to those of us who choose not to ride shotgun on the short bus.

It wasn’t that particular rant that lit him up though.  Naturally when you’re hocking your wares door to door, you’re going to encounter malcontented misanthropes such as myself.  I tried to keep in mind that he was just doing his job, and I made it a point to separate my rants about Spectrum from the fact that some dude was making an honest living by knocking on my door.

Now that the foundation has been poured here, let’s get to the real meat of this story.

Among all of her other qualities, my beloved pit bull Hope had good hearing, a protective spirit, and a ferocious bark.

Whenever we left and returned to the house, she would hear us getting out of the car in the driveway and begin barking.  It’s safe to assume that she was either expressing gratitude that we were home, or she was admonishing visitors that they weren’t welcome.

Ladies and gentlemen, we didn’t have a door bell when Hope was with us.

We had a door bull.

That door bull could be heard a few houses away.

Given that Hope was usually in her kennel when people came to the door, she would start barking unpleasant sentiments to the unfortunate souls who found themselves questioning their choice to market their products or share their theology with us.

Our other dog Faith was usually out of her kennel.  Faith is the friendly one who wants to give our visitors a big ole Texas “Howdy”.  When someone comes to the door, she’s there placing orders for cookies, checking out color swatches for aluminum siding, and converting to whatever doctrine that’s being offered.

So last month on a Saturday, we were sitting around experiencing our non-Spectrum products when the door bull activated.  After losing 3 out of 5 games of rock, paper, scissors, Wifey carried out the unhappy task of going to the door to see who it was.  She pulled the curtain aside just enough to see the logo on our visitor’s shirt.  “It’s Spectrum.”  she announced.

I immediately sprung to action.  “Dibs.”

Keep in mind, our visitor has already waited a bit to share with us a wonderful opportunity to save some money on our *ahem* cable and home phone service.  The door bull was still actively and audibly engaged, and had not been commanded, enticed, and begged to shut the hell up.  Faith, on the other hand, was pondering if she wanted to splurge and add the call waiting feature.

In the most Texas fashion there is, I moseyed on over to the front door.  When I got there, I moved the curtain over a little and got the gentlemen’s attention and motioned that it would be another moment while I attended to the malevolent entity from another relm which was uttering some very unpolite things at the moment.

With the door bull still fully engaged, I kicked the door a little and barked some commands at what the salesman could only assume was a beast on the other side of the door poised to pounce.  In the meantime, Faith was also pawing at the door and pondering the benefits of caller-id and free movie channels.

“Sit!”  I yelled.

“Stay…….. And this time I mean it!”

Ladies and gentlemen, the table was set.

I opened the door quick and wide so as to let my visitor know that I had no intention of keeping the beast from eating his lunch and taking his milk money.

The look on that guys face when Faith went out to greet her new best friend is one I wish I had the camera ready for.

But I didn’t.

I’ve already told you what happened in the process of that particular sales call.  Needless to say, Faith is still tied to cell service with no home phone, and streaming television with no cable box or DVR.

I look back on that particular encounter with mixed emotions because that was the last time Hope and I took advantage of the wonderful opportunity to live rent free in the skull of a solicitor.

Hope passed away last week, and with her that ferocious bark that greeted loved ones and admonished others to go fly a kite.

A piece of junk mail wasn’t the only thing we got in the mail today.  We got a sympathy card from the veterinary clinic.  Every one of the people we have ever dealt with there in care of both Hope and Faith had signed the card.

In addition, Hope came back home today after a week of being out of the house.  She now sits on top of an antique barrister bookshelf next to a picture of the kids.  An imprint of her paw is included.  The bookshelf belonged to my grandmother.  Grandma would hate that, because she had no love for dogs.

Even though Hope is back home, her silence is deafening.