Tag Archives: Spam

Feliz Navidog!

26 Dec

Sometimes I think Big Red is losing her mind, as demonstrated here.  022

It was a peaceful Sunday afternoon. I was reclining majestically on Red’s leopard-print Snuggie, contemplating the true meaning of Christmas. Okay, I was dreaming about deep-fried Spam, but fuzzy polyester has that effect on me. Anyway, with an unsettlingly gleeful look in her eye, Red bundled Lola and me up unceremoniously, carried us out in the rain, and plopped us into the car. When we got to PetSmart, she put us and one of our car-beds into a shopping cart and wheeled us inside to get our picture taken with Santa. It was pretty corny, but I went along with it because Red was so excited.  Santa asked what I wanted, and I said that I just wanted to get through this photo-op without Lola panicking and wetting herself like she did at the groomer. Thank you, Santa; another crisis averted. I’ve been good this year (really a saint for having put up with Lola as pleasantly as I have), so I’d love to wrap my lips around that Spam whenever you’re in the neighborhood, but I won’t be at Casa de Momo.

You see, we’re going for a visit this week, Lola and I, while Red takes a trip. She says she is going to investigate Lola’s “roots,” like she’s a shrubbery or something, and learn a bit about her past. I have a feeling that the crazy-eyed critter (Lola, not Red), is envious of my book’s success and wants to write one of her own. Here is how I think it would go: “Blah, blah, blah, shudder, shudder, blah, blah, blah.” And then more of that. Well, good luck to her. She’s a bit of a novelty, to be sure, but she’s no Biker Chihuahua!

Be that as it may, Red is taking us to stay for the week with a nice lady named Patti. Patti likes to look after other people’s dogs in her house, which is nice and has a big backyard. I’m fine with it, because I can lay in the sunshine a lot and bark at the tortoise that lives in the side yard. Red wasn’t sure how Lola would cope, though, since she’s never had a sleep-away before. So she took us to see Eddy, the animal communicator, and asked him to explain it to Lola. She actually listened to him, which proves how good he is, because in order to get her to listen to me I have to growl at her until she cowers, then tell her things while I lick her face gently.

I’m going to be a good big brother and watch over her while we are visiting with Patti. Just for fun, though, I’m going to tell her to make sure that the last thing Red sees is Lola looking trembly and devastated, just so she doesn’t get into the habit of going away too often. (Red, not Lola.) Then we can start exploring and having fun, and Red can desperately try to un-see the tragic mental image tattooed on her guilt-ridden maternal psyche. “Roots,” my ass.

It won’t be too hard to be a good big brother, though. Lola can be kind of sweet when she’s not being a pain. And after a week in that big, sunny backyard, I might not even be in such a hurry to go home! Just kidding. It’ll be a fun week, and I’ll be happy to go home when it’s over. After all, home is where the Snuggie is.

Past Life Digression

6 Nov

You seem familiar to me somehow. We’ve probably sniffed each other in a past life.  For those of you who think that “past life” stuff is a bunch of hooey, how do you explain that feeling you get that you’ve been somewhere before, or met someone before? Do only dogs get that? Maybe people just aren’t instinctual enough creatures to understand.

Anyway, here’s what happened: It was a rainy afternoon, and the sound of the rain was making me drowsy. Big Red was reading, and I noticed that her hand smelled great, like she’d just been fondling Spam, so I started licking it, honing in on her ring finger. Actually, I honed in on her smooth silver ring, nibbling at it dreamily. It felt great in my mouth, very bite-able, with no pointy things or protrusions. That’s Red’s style, because she’s not super-coordinated, and can hurt herself on just about anything. Her mind is always miles away, chasing its tail or something, even when she looks like she’s deeply fascinated by whatever you’re saying.

So, I was falling asleep, gnawing away, and I had a sudden, vivid mental picture. I was in a fancy room with a fireplace, licking and chewing at some lady’s ring, only it was a really fancy one, with a big shiny blue stone (no, of course we’re not colorblind; what kind of sense does that make?). And I wasn’t just doing it for amusement, I was licking and gently tugging at it, trying to get it off the lady’s finger without her noticing. One paw in each world, I kept working at Red’s ring, which was looking pretty meager now, while I looked around carefully at the image in my mind. The fireplace room had tables, and there was a lot of good-smelling food around, which explained why I was there. It was a pub! The lady was drinking something out of a big glass, talking to a man, who kept filling it. He was running his game, and I was running mine. 

Finally, with a lot of tongue action and some judiciously applied teeth, I got it off her finger, held it carefully in my mouth, and trotted stealthily away. In the pub’s kitchen, I went to what seemed to be my bed, a braided rug near the stove. A door opened, and a tall, shadowy figure came in from outside. It was cold and damp, and the wind smelled like ocean. I didn’t belong to him, or to anyone, really, so I guess I was sort of a sea-urchin. Haha. He bent down to pet me. I sniffed his hand, then dropped the ring into it. He put the ring into a bag and pulled out a big, meaty bone for me. 

That’s all I remember, but it was such a clear picture, I knew it had to be true. Red didn’t seem surprised as I was dictating it to her just now, but she’s pretty hard to shock. She said that maybe she was the Popess in a previous life and that’s why her ring was getting kissed, but I think it’s more likely that she was just another victim of random, canine-related pub crime. I got to thinking, though… if I stole jewels in another life, maybe that’s why I had to sacrifice mine in this lifetime, before I could leave the shelter. Sigh. Karma, you unfeeling she-dog, you really are a bitch!