Category: Hot Dog

When I’m  going to San Francisco…

I’m gonna wear wear a flower in my hair…

When I’m  going to San Francisco….

I’m gonna meet some gentle people there…

PS: Well…once the Borders open again (if they open again)… and I don’t need to wear a mask and I have been vaccinated….I’m thinking….

I gotta tell ya…I am changing…and that’s a good thing…because the old me…or the young doggie…you choose….was judgmental, harsh and unreliable…but I always had my heart in the right place…I like to think…

I am more of a pondering doggie now…not nearly as Cuban Reactionary, as I started out….What could you expect though from a purebred Havanese puppy …having watched  the Revolutionary Utopia created through the fine mind of Che Guevara…as the 1 percent bolted the island…leaving us to swim or sink…apparently my descendants were excellent swimmers or there would be…no me….

Not like I can randomly castigate all the wealthy who secreted their treasure out of a war torn country, Cuba, to the land of milk and honey…a lot of well-to-do loved their puppies as much as their gold and took us with them to this alien land of Guns and Roses…Law and Order…(well, somewhat).  We thrived…Finally in 1996, our breed got recognized and could be registered by the AKC…No one ever said that the Americans rush over welcoming yet another immigrant species in to the Home of the Brave and the Land of the Free…

Momma and her family are puritanical, hard headed and contrary (with a biting sense of humor), because of the over indulgence of Scottish blood with a squirt of French that makes them ironic with a need to question…in combination,  it can be heaven… or it can be hell…so excuse me…if I think everything must be shared…I watched communism at work.  If I seem intense…barking at a free-wheeling butterfly…well, it’s in my blood……

Still you know, I have learned to chill…somewhat…When I was younger, Momma called me her favorite tattle tale because if a cat jumped on a counter, I was on high alert…barking, snarling, bringing Momma running….I wasn’t a tattle tale…I came from a land of Communists…who not only spy on those from other countries but those who work with them, play with them, family with them…. (okay, family as a verb… that is a new use and probably not acceptable in Webster’s Dictionary)…It was my job to look, listen and report back…and being the doggie that made the Rules and Regulations Manifesto…I took it all seriously.

So Momma and I are probably like the most of inhabitants of our Inexplicable Universe…just teetering on too much of some things…not enough of another…but hey…don’t blame us:

It’s in our blood… It’s in our blood……   Well…. So to speak…. Thanks Shawn Mendes ….for letting the world know our dilemma….

So, Momma believes she can fly…so high in the sky…not a frequent flyer…no, you are so not going to see her in a airport any time soon, in one of those long maze like, roped in corrals…like used, no doubt, to discombobulate human prey until they have no idea whether they are headed North, South, East or West or all four ways at the same time…but you definitely know you’re in another Time Zone….

I’ve mentioned before…Momma’s well…clumsy.  That woman has enough talent to trip over a piece of lint…Sometimes it is hilarious (almost) but mostly just one more thing to worry about….

Take the other morning…We were off for our walk…There was no rush…All her scheduled housework was done…Her meditation worked on (but never ends, exactly)….Her lists all in order of where she had to go to, what she had to buy….So what possessed her to somehow go so fast that when she missed the front step….literally Momma was airborne…hurtling faster than a spaceship on a crash course landing….speeding past me like a projectile from a catapult…Only down to the ground….not up to the sky…maybe her GPS malfunctioned….maybe she malfunctioned. Uh, oh…I thought….Heads up Momma, Heads up .

All that praying, asking for blessings must work for Momma because God as my Witness, she had parked her car in front of the doorstep and was able to put her arms out and use the now hand print smudged windows to brace her fall… If her car had been in the garage as it is normally is (she’s a routine driven Virgo, you remember), …well, like Humpty Dumpty who fell on his head…all the King’s horses and All the King’s Men couldn’t have put Momma together again….

Very shaken, Momma sat down on the steps, begged my forgiveness, (apology forgiven but Geez Louise…slow down…you move too fast), and thanked everyone in Spirit that had propped her up…included, but not limited, to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.

And then, Momma being Momma, stood up, gave her body a good shake to slip the bones back in to their sockets (I guess) and off  we went on our jaunt.  But me…I sang…

Slow down, you move too fast…You got to make the morning last…
Just kicking down the cobblestones…Looking for fun and feeling groovy…           (Simon and Garfunkel)

Momma says…and she is a self proclaimed expert…that she still talks to RIP Daddy every day…..and Holy Smokes…she says he answers her…. It seems, although absent in body, RIP Daddy is active in spirit…and well, I believe so many things so why not that?

Yes, RIP Daddy, flits around the garden on butterfly wings, gliding silently but majestically, guiding Momma to the parts of the garden that need weeding, trimming, dividing.  I’ve seen them myself, out of the corner of my eye, dive bombing the stately flower petals with the speed of a fighter jet, swooping  and diving, here one minute, gone the next….You don’t get conversation out of those transactions , just POL (Proof of Life) wherever it may be, whatever form it takes….

No, the talking part comes when Momma is sorting through RIP Daddy’s earthly possession, as she asks him what does he want her to do with his…example: collection of Tonka Trucks…..right away he answers …keep them for WonderBoy’s son….and Momma is sore confused because…well, there are no babies in the foreseeable future, but hey, if you have any influence, RIP Daddy, could you get the process jump started, ya think?

Mostly though ‘In Dreams We Talk to You’…such routine conversations about some past client’s cute little dog, (talk about me RIP Daddy….I Am the Greatest…not someone else’s little dog) or the sweet little kid you met up with, or the latest inexplicable thing that happened in the world…or the US, now that Trump is Leader of the Not So Longer Free World.

And …‘how about them Leafs?’ ….this is their year, for sure…darn straight…Momma says you look alike, you sound alike, you’re just more spiritual than physical….But RIP Daddy is busy because he hovers over WonderBoy, invading his dreams, sending sometimes comforting, sometimes incomprehensible messages.

Keep at it RIP Daddy….maybe Momma, Wonder Boy and me, the Jakita will attain better comprehension skills….because:

In dreams we walk with you, in dreams we talk to you…
In dreams you’re ours, all of the time…We’re together in dreams, in dreams….

Once upon a time…a long time ago…there was only one Angel Dog in our Family….You know, American Eskimo Angel Dog Edward Bear Spinner….also known as Teddy.

When Momma went on and on and on some more, about how Teddy had never done anything wrong in his life….well, maybe he did one thing…he nipped Momma the first time she groomed him….oh and then there was the time he stole Momma’s guard for her bottom teeth….only, Momma shared some of the blame…she had left it out on her night stand…so, couldn’t really count that one, Momma said.

As you can imagine, my eyes went round and round and round in my sockets, a look of disbelief and maybe even jealousy on my usually sanctimonious face….but as Loretta Lynn sang….they don’t make ‘em like our Teddy anymore….

And so it was a complete shock the other day when Momma leaned down and whispered in my ear the other day that I am her Angel Puppy.   What…say what…when did I earn my wings…am I on the other side without remembering the journey?

Seeing the puzzlement on my  countenance…could have been my open mouth or… maybe my eyes begging, ….like…for real …Momma explained…

Teddy would always be her Angel Dog….but I am, I am…her Angel Puppy…because 1) I am smaller; 2) like any puppy, I am still in training…for the Angel part that is…. because sometimes I pull when I should heel and get hyper when I should just ‘let go and let God’….3) on occasion, I can be sneaky, digging craters in out of site areas  BUT other than that….

I am perfect…Momma said so…I even have some remarkable and lovable qualities that AngelDog Teddy never achieved…for instance…Teddy abided others but was devoted only to Momma….Not me…I have special relationships with all worthy kind hearted Two or Four Footed Creature…I am not like Teddy, feeling superior to cats, well, because they are cats.  I discipline, protect and love those cats if their very existence depended on me.

Agreed, Angel Dog Teddy was perfectly disciplined and obedient but where was the deep abiding love to envelope all of God’s creatures…not just Momma, because she rescued him from that God forsaken puppy mill, where survival was not a given…

I‘m still pinching myself that Momma says I am her Angel Puppy….yeah, yeah, yeah…I still have a few areas of improvement to attend to and I am on it…so on it but an Angel Puppy…who knew?

Now is there some secret to keep my Angel wings in place???? Calling all Angels.  Any suggestions?

So as we are walking along, my Momma and I,  we see them…all kinds…taking up space, in an already crowded world…but then again…who am I to say, you ask?  Let me tell you more…about…. The Birds and the Bees and the Flowers and  the Trees…and Momma.

More often than not my Momma in In-Her-Own-World, possibly thinking outrageous things like…who decided blue was blue…the sky…a scientist…a farmer…who knows what goes on in her distracted mind??? 

As we meander up, down and sideways (sometimes), my 360 degree head tilt  is firmly in place. With my exaggerated  ability to smell and hear at extremely long distances, I spy well dressed Jim-Morrison-Would-Be bearing down on us, with a pent up amount of tall tales to tell…if only we have the time to stop and listen…seems we don’t…

Momma’s polite, yet stiff upper lip response to Jim-Morrison-Would-Be’s overtures are as noticeable as if she took out a Billboard over there on the 401 where trapped motorists read them just to pass the time as they wile away in the Stop-and-Go Traffic…(mostly stopped).

Then I see Rocket Man approaching on his Scooter, with his non-descript scruffy looking grey brindle terrier that I call Groucho because he has a very poor attitude even for a male dog….but I like the Rocket Man who aces at scratching my ears and apparently Momma doesn’t mind him either, because she actually manages a rather limited, maybe three or four sentence conversation with him.

As we head on up the street, I see the Silent-One hit the sidewalk with his big old mixed retriever who plods along as if he is only going out for this walk just to please his Master…they both appear frightened of me and Momma because every time they sees us coming, they automatically the street.  Momma tried nodding at the Silent One…who is  not only silent but it seems even a social nod is beyond his ability…not sure what is going on with that, but the people he live with will greet Momma so…guess the Silent One has taken a Vow of well…Silence.

But the most dangerous Two Footed we might meet are Bikers on the sidewalk, silently approaching full tilt, as if racing in the Cycling Team Pursuit in the Olympics for the Gold Medal….You are lucky …most fortunate indeed, if they are approaching you…not coming up behind you, expecting you to jump off the sidewalk at the same speed that they are cycling. 

Case and point, a couple of days past, two students on bikes were approaching…the first bike rider (a teenage girlie, no less), barreled straight for us. Even though we had flattened ourselves like Sylvester as in games with Tweety Bird, to the side, we had to jump off the little space we occupied on the sidewalk, to someone’s lawn.  The second rider, a young male, obviously embarrassed, realizing why some bikers get bad raps, slowed his speed and thanked us for moving over.  Some Momma’s do a fine job of teaching their children manners…in this case, good manners..

From where I stand (on my lofty Know-It-All-Ladder-of-Life), seems Momma relishes the days we go walking wherein it is only us and Nature, wandering around a world devoid of the living, breathing, aggravating Two and Four Footed…where, if you listen closely you can hear trees whisper, see flowers dance, listen as rocks scream out, ‘Look at me’…..making you One with the Universe…focused, inspired, rejuvenated …at peace within the core …forever more.

 

I feel ya, Moma, I feel ya….more of  that…less of them .. works for me!

Momma says, she does, if that Awards for Level of Sanctimony are ever passed out , I would do exceptionally well…like if they were handing out Gold Medals for it, I’d have a fistful….but is it my fault that it seem some dogs are inferior to me…just asking… no need to answer... it’s purely a rhetorical question.

I‘ve mentioned La Belle Dame Husky Dog before…. beautiful, spirited but brainless …she hauls her poor Momma around as if she was going for the Blue Ribbon in an International Sprint Dog Sled Race…Slow down, La Belle Dame…you are not with a team of fellow Mush Mush compatriots.  Your poor Mama is lifted off her feet, Gone with the Wind like a scene from Wizard of Oz.  My Momma and Wonder Boy just shake their heads at the site. They fear for her safety.  Maybe your Momma should wear a crash helmet because, mark my words one day, it is not going to end well for her….like you give canines…a bad name! 🙂

Then there are your other odd and seemingly untrainable habits.  You know we have cats, cats who are Indoor/Outdoor Enthusiasts but still cautious and wily.  You plunk yourself down in front of our gateway, longing for an encounter but you are out of luck because the cats can smell your intent and stay far away, but in view, just to taunt you.

Then there are the cute little bunnies who seemed to have doubled, tripled, quadrupled this summer (like flash floods…LOL).  They languish in our gardens, eating our brightly coloured roses and tulips, on our lawns, eating the clover, even nervy enough to hop up the front steps and rest on the veranda a while.  Our cats look at them, ‘Are you for real…in bygone days when Beau Beau lived, you would have been toast.’  The Pink Eyed, Long Whiskered Bunnies look as if to say…. ‘What’s your point?’….and take off, pushing, under the black link chain fence, across the road, down the grassy knoll, disappearing into their Green Conservation Home….but they’re trouble…they’ll be back.

One sure thing is La Belle Dame is even more obsessed with Bunnies than cats.  Whenever she feels them, sees them, hears them, she will plunk herself down in the middle of our two lane street, her head on swivel tilt so she can see some in the garden, some in the clover, others darting in and out the fence…. meanwhile her Momma is pleading with her to get up, at least over to the sidewalk while cars whiz by, either side of her, some amused (been there, done that) while other driver make rude hand signs…obviously they need their coffee fix…like now!

Your poor Momma.  I am pretty sure my Momma would have a solution to those problems….just a disappointed look from her and I feel utterly chastised and in the dog house…:)

Now when I daily encounter this and other dogs who are so sweet but so clueless, (but I don’t judge…honestly…) maybe I do look sanctimonious ….. I know, I know….you think the owners need training but La Belle Dames’ Mama is absolutely devoted, did the best she could…then probably put the rest in God’s Hands who is so busy with real life catastrophes that he’s got no time left over and expects the Earthlings to step up! We are on it God…really!

Still, I can smile, I do smile….it is just that there has to be an occasion…not my fault they are few and far between…Maybe I’m just like my Momma…She’s never satisfied (Prince)… Well, she’s a Virgo, you know….know what I mean…..

You know, know what I mean….

We all know, much as we love her, Momma’s a Work in Progress…you can’t depend on her to pay ‘The Bad Cop’ ever….well, at least with the cats…with me, she seems to have no problem settling me down…if I need it…which hasn’t been for a long, long time because I wrote ‘The Policy and Procedures for All Creation’ so obviously, I have no excuse.  In order to be an Enforcer, you first must drink the Cool Aid…..no matter the color, no matter taste….

Let me give you an example about how Momma failed me…again.  The other day,I was sleeping in the living room, usual spot on couch, my head being pillowed by Pink Bunny and Pink Eared Sylvester. 

Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte (Charlie) claimed the spot beside me to sneak in a cat nap….and that is exactly what Charlie does…she cat naps…if Momma moves anywhere in the house, she sits up, a most worried look on her face…is she leaving…will she ever come back….Charlie suffers PTSD from being born in a bin at a noisy Tier One Automotive Plant, where clangy 1000 Ton Presses grind steel at impossible to register decibel,  into various and sundry car parts.

The Diva Calico Gen comes into the Living Room…Wouldn’t you just know it….seems Charlie has the spot on the couch she wants….so she stands on her hind legs and gives Charlie a sharp paw slap.  Faster than a speeding bullet, Charlie sits up and noisily thumps Gen, right jab, left jab, get out of here.

 

As the Leader of the Pack, I don’t like it one bit.  Momma, who somehow heard the thumping runs in to the room.  Gen, knowing she has been rightfully chastised, gets the heck out of Dodge….which means I am left to put Charlie in her place…so I give her my most severe long ‘Are you kidding me? Were you raised by the Forest Freaks?’ look….and Momma laughed…. Whether it was my expression, Charlie’s reaction…I couldn’t tell you…and I swear, just the way Charlie turned away, flicked her ears, she was flipping me the bird…..she was….

I am putting it out there….who else suffers such indignities…all in the line of duty…..tell me…who?????

I feel so helpless, what can I do….Remembering all the things we’d been through?  It seems they all stop and stare….I can’t hide my angst… but I don’t care…Never forget it, I’m yourLeader of the Pack….. Lookout,  Lookout…                                                                    (Paraphrase Jeff Barry / Ellie Greenwich / George Morton)