Hi Again

4 Jul

Happy Dog Days of Summer, everybody! Why so Sirius? I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked, but two pretty cool things have happened in the last few months. First of all, I have a new friend! For some reason, as you can see, she thinks she can sit on my pimp chair, and for some reason, I let her do it. She’s only seven months old, she’s a Chihuahua, and we’ve named her “Lola.” The most important thing to bear in mind about Lola is that she has Crazy Eyes. One is blue and the other is brown. It still gives me the willies sometimes.

The day she first came home from the shelter with Red, I didn’t know what the heck was going on. I tried to send her a message with my mind while I was sniffing her butt, but what came back from “Her Trembliness” sounded a lot like, “Piss off, you!” I herded her into the kitchen just to show her who was boss, and kept her there for a while so I could check her out at a distance. Even accounting for her cowering mien, I could see that she was only about half my size, with some freckly, bovine little brown spots on her white fur, two brown ears and a brown patch over the brown-eye side. The side with the eerie blue eye is white. I sat purposefully in the doorway, looking at her, for maybe ten minutes. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, she raised up on her hind legs, did this weird Frankenstein-arms thing, and silently bared her teeth at me. Never in my extensive adventures have I seen something as batshit crazy-looking as her eyes at that moment. Flabbergasted, I took several steps back, at which time she walked casually past me and curled up in my bed next to my kittaboo. We settled into an uneasy silence. Later, I asked Red if we could call her “Batshit,” because it suited her.  Red said no, it would be “Lola,” because that was her real name.

Lola is extremely unpredictable, and has way too much energy for her (or my) own good. From a dead sleep, she will fling herself at me during my periods of contemplation and proceed to bite me up, or tunnel under my bed like a feral ferret and attempt to topple me. She will steal any toy or chewy-thing that isn’t nailed down, and has a peculiar fascination with hunting out unwashed socks or underwear and then hurtling pell-mell down the hall with them in her mouth like an Olympic sprinter crossing the finish line. She likes to carry all manner of things between her teeth when we’re walking, and appears thrilled by the even the grungiest little stick, or wad of paper. She is terrified by sudden movement and guests, but will snarl and bark unceasingly on-leash at any passer-by. I was really insulted at first that she wouldn’t pee on things after me when we were walking, like Brother-Dog does, but then I grudgingly decided not to take it so personally. It’s not about me. It’s about her. (Right, guys?)

In short, she’s squirrelly and can be a real pest. But sometimes, she comes up and starts licking my face with her tiny pink tongue, at which time my heart melts and I respond in kind until she falls asleep. Then I can finally get some rest. Whew. When she was first in residence at Casa de Howie, I didn’t sleep at all. I was afraid that I would wake up with a start to find her standing over me, staring at me, her head turned to the left and her spooky blue eye emitting some sort of soul-sucking rays, or at least glowing in the dark.

Depending on my mood, and her behavior, I have several songs that I sing about her. The first one I came up with is to the tune of “Copacabana,” and it starts out: “Her name was Lola. Her eyes were crazy.” There will be a part about me, of course, that goes: “His name was Howie. He was a biker,” but I haven’t worked out all the kinks in it yet. Speaking of Kinks, I also have a few variations about my new friend, set to the tune of their immortal classic. When I’m feeling kindly and big-brotherly towards her, I sing this one: “Lola…She bubbly like cola… Too shy to say Hola’.” When she’s being little-sisterly, though, sometimes the nicest thing I can think of to say about her is: “Lola… She don’t got ebola… She full of crapola.” Red says that there is a showtune called “Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets,” sung by some female in league with the Devil (which figures), but not if I can help it. My customary haiku, perhaps, sums up my feelings best: “Inexhaustible / Aggravating. Kinda cute / Crazy-Eyes Lola.”

Oh, the other cool thing that happened? My memoirs are finally complete! The heretofore untold story of my checkered past can finally be shared with the world. Once I’m famous, maybe I’ll get my own room, so that I can get away from you-know-who once in a while. Anyway, I’ll keep you posted.

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