Getonouttahere

When I was growing up, my grandparents had two miniature French poodles.  As a joke, my grandmother named them Pierre and Rene.  They were small, white, and sneaky.  I learned this first hand when Pierre snatched a hotdog out of my hand while I was holding it! 

My grandparent’s back yard had a covered patio just off the back door.  They had a sliding door that looked out on the patio.  The dogs were outside dogs, but they were not allowed on the patio.  They knew this, but when they thought nobody was looking, they’d come up and watch us through the sliding door.  My grandfather had some sort of sixth sense, some sort of dog-on-patio detector, and the moment they’d peep their black eyes through the door, he’d go running across the house, jerk the door open, and scream, “Getonouttahere!” 

The first couple of times this happened, the dogs just stood there looking at him with their heads cocked to one side, trying to figure out what that even meant.  I have to admit that we all had the same look on our faces.  After he would swat at them, they learned that whatever he had said did not bode well for them.  I’m not sure if they ever really understood him.  It took me years to figure it out too.