Friday, August 07, 2009


Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry
Well, I got the dogs out to the park twice this week and why I'm not covered with poison ivy I don't know, but I'm grateful. Everything went very smoothly on Tuesday morning, when I first took them - we finally found the creek! The creek is great! - and less smoothly this morning, because Theo is a big fat jerk. Well. That might be a little much but honestly, I'm about to take him to a dog therapist. First off, we have all the annoying dog politics issues revolving around food. You don't want to know about those, I assure you. I could write a lengthy, lengthy, multi paragraphed essay about dog politics and how they revolve around food and so on, but suffice it to say that it is insanely fucking annoying to keep on, day after day, feeding animals who apparently don't really want to eat, or, who will only eat when it's the exact politically correct moment. It's doubly annoying when you are 99% sure that the cause of all this foolishness is one dog, to wit, Theo.

Anyhow, food and dog politics aside, this morning at Richmond Hill Theo took off. I don't know where he got to but wherever it was, there was a dog and a small dog at that already in possession. They barked at each other angrily for, I kid you not, twenty straight minutes. This was punctuated by me whistling and shouting now and then. Fun.

The woods are supposed to be a quiet place, broken only by the gentle breeze, the call of birds, the shrieks of a dryad being goosed by Pan - you know, the whole bucolic schtick. They're not supposed to echo to the sound of a collie and what sounded like a terrier of some kind having a big old barking argument. I wasn't sure where the hell they could be and I really didn't want to walk through four acres of straight poison ivy to find out, so I left them to it, even though I was kind of worried about the small dog. I was afraid perhaps he was trapped somewhere, or a prisoner or something, because I didn't think we were close enough to the edge of the woods for him to be defending his yard. However, he didn't sound scared or desperate, just pissed off, so perhaps Theo was right up on his yard. RIchmond Hill confuses the hell out of me, directionally.

Anyway, Theo eventually - twenty minutes, lord. Twenty minutes when he knew perfectly well where I was and heard me just fine and didn't come through the woods because he was busy barking - came back and I put him on a leash and harangued him steadily through our hike back to the car but I doubt my words of wisdom sank in. I think he needs professional help. Anyone know a dog therapist or a dog psychic or perhaps a really mean dog trainer?

In other news my friend Hy was here from Charleston and we went out with Susan and Jennifer and had an incredibly delicious meal at the Admiral and then a beer at the Wedge and then all went back to my porch to drink a couple more beers and talk. Then the next day he brought his whole family down to the museum so I saw him then too - it was great to see him and as always, I'm amazed and delighted and blessed that we have managed to sustain this friendship for so many years now. Although I swear he has a portrait in his attic or something because, good lord, Hy, you don't look 102, and I feel 102, and we're the same age, I know, so therefore you are using Dark Magic, I knows it! Give me some! Heh.


Edgy Mama said...

I wrote an article about the Black Mountain-based animal communicator, Cindy Smith, about three years ago. She said she got some alligators to leave some people's backyard pond in Florida--over the TELEPHONE--so maybe she could talk Theo into not running off and arguing with strange dogs? You can Google her.

hack said...

This guy might also be worth a try.