Thursday, April 02, 2009

Django is a Good Dog

3 dogs
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry
Yesterday after work I was supposed to go to belly dancing with my two best friends/drinking buddies/compadres: Jodi & Susan. We came up with this belly dancing idea some time ago and, you know, it sounded excellent at the time, which specifically I believe was on about the third beer at Broadways. Then the first Wednesday rolled around and I bailed. In my defense, it was that time of the month and belly can't bleed and dance at the same time, okay?

The second Wednesday came, which would be last Wednesday, and Jodi forgot all about it, so Susan and I went. Susan had a great time. I, on the other hand, am about the worst belly dancer in the long and storied history of the art form. This is not for want of a belly, I'll have you know, it's more that I don't really bend. Or wiggle well. Or stretch. Also, have I mentioned recently that I was tragically born without abdominal muscles? Anyway, I did not do well. The instructor kept looking over at me and suggesting in an oh so nice but transparent way that if one was having trouble with the stretch, here were a variety of Loathesome Old Lady semi stretch options, including, god help me, a pillow, that might help and nobody should stretch beyond their capacity. Fuck that - when you're in a class, you want to stretch with the big dogs, not collapse onto the floor in a heap of Old Lady shame with your pillow. So it was tough and terrible but I would have made it through the whole thing if it hadn't been an hour and a half long. An hour and a half is way too long to do any one thing at all (with the possible exception of sex, which I only dimly remember anyway) unless you're billing for it. So I escaped and went down to the proper gym to balm my conscience by going very fast on the elliptical machine without even falling off once.

Then, like the bells which toll for thee, another Wednesday came along. Yesterday. I was going to go to belly dancing. No, really, I was, because shame and stretching are good for me, but when I left work the sun was shining and it was warm and, well, instead I took all three dogs for a hike at Bent Creek. That's what this post is about. Hiking is just as good if not better exercise than belly dancing and the dogs were being great (about the only thing I've ever managed to train my dogs to do is be good hiking companions, but I have somehow done that) although Perdita has yet to learn dog mountain bike etiquette, which is to say it's poor form to hang out right in front of the bike and even poorer to then chase the bike or start running away from it so the bike is chasing you. Although mildly hilarious, I must say.

So everything was going swimmingly until, almost at the end of the walk, a couple more bikes with a couple of women and a couple of yappy little dogs came along. They were off leash and my guys were off leash and I figured, fine. We'd met some other dogs that day and everything had been great, as it usually is. Unfortunately, one of the little dogs apparently insulted Theo's mother in vile terms and there was, thus, a scuffle, complete with little dog owners emitting cries of woe and me shouting at my dogs and holding Perdita by the collar so she wouldn't get involved and so on. Naturally, Perdita promptly twisted, shed her collar and disappeared into the woods at high speed. Meanwhile, I got leashes onto Django and Theo and apologized and all that stuff you have to do when you have dogs. Some people, I hear, don't have dogs. Perhaps if I'm very, very good in this life - well. Then I suppose my next life would be less entertaining. Or hairy, anyway.

Perdita, fortunately, didn't go that far. I could see her through the trees but I could not get her to come to me for love, money or milkbones. Finally, exasperated, I took Django off his leash and said, "Go get her." And he did. He ran right over there and bumped her on the side of the head with his nose and the two of them ran straight back over to me like something out of an Animal Channel special on Really Good Dogs. It was awesome.

And now I think I'm way too used to having three dogs and they are way too fond of each other and, well, I keep putting off calling back the Animal Compassion Network. Because I am clinically insane and Perdita, well, Perdita is just really something and I'm not sure I could quite stand to give her away now.


skippy haha said...

atta boy Django - that's some Lassie shit right there.

hack said...

Every night at your place is a Three Dog Night. You rock!


I forgot when we were visiting that Jane and I fell in love with Django. Good dog Django!