Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
Max and The Pointer Sisters
I had a dream that I became a member of the Pointer Sisters. (I was so excited; I couldn't hide it.) The incongruous pairing in the dream reminded me of when Max was a year old and I took him to a police dog training school.
The first day of class we were told to line up our dogs in a row, to make them SIT, to make them STAY, and to take a few steps back. From that vantage point, I saw all eight dogs lined up in a row, sitting and staying: seven German Shepherds and one Jack Russell Terrier who, to this day, thinks he's a German Shepherd...much like I dream I'm a Pointer Sister.
The first day of class we were told to line up our dogs in a row, to make them SIT, to make them STAY, and to take a few steps back. From that vantage point, I saw all eight dogs lined up in a row, sitting and staying: seven German Shepherds and one Jack Russell Terrier who, to this day, thinks he's a German Shepherd...much like I dream I'm a Pointer Sister.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
I Am Max's Manciple
I'm walking Max!
How many times have I spoken those words over the last twelve years littered with men, family, cities, neighbors and other glitterati. Three words. I'm. Walking. Max. And during this relatively short respite out of doors, I am transformed into Max's manciple, following him around town and picking up his shit.
Not that there's anything wrong with it.
These are the oldest pictures I have of Max. It was a few months after the day we got him. And when I say we I mean my ex-boyfriend who wanted the latest homosexual accesory, a Jack Russell Terrier. I didn't want a second dog. I had begun manciple duties for the schmuck's German Shepherd when I moved in with him. (It was the least I could do for that poor dog.) Thus I knew that I'd have to perform manciple duties for any other dog that was brought into this household. Buddy was 95 pounds. That's a lot of mancipling.
But against my wishes, Max was brought into our home and, at maybe 5 pounds, fit in the palm of my hand. What? I'm going to get rid of a cutie patootie?
Max cemented our future sleeping arrangements that first night in Sonora. I had moved Buddy's big pillow to the bedroom wall for Max to sleep on. But every time I got in the bed Max got up and sat on the floor, below my pillow, whimpering. He was too small to jump on the bed.
I put him back to the big pillow. Whimper. I leashed him to the closet railing above the big pillow. Whimper and choke. I put him outside the closed bedroom door. Whimper to pre-howl. OK. I've had enough. I picked Max up, put him in bed with me and made the following very clear:
Just for tonight so I can get some sleep.
Max slept in the crook of my belly that night and has been there ever since.
How many times have I spoken those words over the last twelve years littered with men, family, cities, neighbors and other glitterati. Three words. I'm. Walking. Max. And during this relatively short respite out of doors, I am transformed into Max's manciple, following him around town and picking up his shit.
Not that there's anything wrong with it.
These are the oldest pictures I have of Max. It was a few months after the day we got him. And when I say we I mean my ex-boyfriend who wanted the latest homosexual accesory, a Jack Russell Terrier. I didn't want a second dog. I had begun manciple duties for the schmuck's German Shepherd when I moved in with him. (It was the least I could do for that poor dog.) Thus I knew that I'd have to perform manciple duties for any other dog that was brought into this household. Buddy was 95 pounds. That's a lot of mancipling.
But against my wishes, Max was brought into our home and, at maybe 5 pounds, fit in the palm of my hand. What? I'm going to get rid of a cutie patootie?
Max cemented our future sleeping arrangements that first night in Sonora. I had moved Buddy's big pillow to the bedroom wall for Max to sleep on. But every time I got in the bed Max got up and sat on the floor, below my pillow, whimpering. He was too small to jump on the bed.
I put him back to the big pillow. Whimper. I leashed him to the closet railing above the big pillow. Whimper and choke. I put him outside the closed bedroom door. Whimper to pre-howl. OK. I've had enough. I picked Max up, put him in bed with me and made the following very clear:
Just for tonight so I can get some sleep.
Max slept in the crook of my belly that night and has been there ever since.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
