Yesterday and today could not be more different. Both amazing in ways I made a point to appreciate. Saturday was rainy and cool. I love running in the rain so I took my running dog Asia to Percy Warner Park in west Nashville. Lots of slipping and sliding (me) and chasing squirrels (her) but we finished the 4.5 mile run safely and exhausted. It was everything I hoped it would be! Sunday, no clouds. Heat. Cool breeze. Piper’s favorite kind of weather. Mine, too. So we both soaked it in and got some vitamin D in the process. It was everything I hoped it would be!
I haven’t fired up the space heater since early 2013 but it’s time. And guess who was super excited? My beagle Piper. Since she was a puppy, she’s loved sitting by the heater on chilly nights. Don’t believe me? Take a look!
So one day I walked out to my back yard, as I often do, and saw my dogs loitering over by one side of the fence. I didn’t think anything of it. The next day, they were in the same area, loitering. The next few days, the same thing. I’m like, “Hey guys, if this was 7-11, you would’ve been arrested YESTERDAY!” Before I put up a ‘No Loitering’ sign assuming they were bumming for smokes, I needed to find out what they were so interested in.
Recon proved they were nibbling on something in the grass. I was like, “This can’t be good.” Long story short, I found out my neighbor has been throwing handfuls of “dog food” over the fence. I actually think it was cat food he’s been giving his cat who, for sake of privacy, we’ll call Whisker 1. Whisker 1 is a big cat. I know this because she’s an outside cat who comes over regularly. And by “comes over” I mean she catwalks by the fence just to get my dogs in a frenzy. They bark and the hair on their back raises up. To this day, they’ve never actually come in contact with Whisker 1 and if they did, she’d cat scratch them right back to where they came from. I mean, she may be big, but she ain’t no wuss.
Anyway, this situation was slightly bothersome for two reasons; one, he didn’t ask me and two, I don’t want my dogs eating random cat food. I like to keep them on a strict diet so they won’t turn into overweight Whisker 2 and Whisker 3. Problem is, I’m not a confrontational guy (well, unless it’s on the basketball court or football field). For the next few days, I went over in my head how to broach the subject.
Sadly, it always ended in me getting a wedgy.
My dogs eat breakfast anywhere from 4am to 6am. After they eat, I let them outside for a few minutes to “take care of business,” and they usually rush out the door guns blazing. And by guns blazing I mean, honkin’ loud barks and howls as if an army of rabbits and squirrels just infiltrated the perimeter. I wonder what my neighbors think but honestly, I don’t want to know. I’m hoping they have government-issued soundproof windows. I’ve now assigned a new duty to myself, and it’s actually my beagle’s duty. Dootee? Dodee? Doo-doo? Yes, my dogs drop bombs and I pick ‘em up. I didn’t used to worry about it, you know, it’s fertilizer. But ever since Piper (3-yr old beagle) was a puppy, she’s gobbled up poop like a Dyson. Like a tapeworm? Like a contestant on “The Biggest Loser” before they compete? Like Si Robertson at a donut shop? So now I walk the yard, baggy in hand, scanning, scanning, ding-ding-ding!, bogey at 2 O’Clock. Hey, if I don’t scoop ‘em up, Piper will. Asia (1-yr old beagle/blue heeler mix) doesn’t seem concerned with eating the same thing twice. And it’s odd, but in my recent study of the situation, I don’t think Piper strays from her own poop. Geez, she’s eating poop and she still has some sort of criteria?? Makes me wonder what I’m missing, but more importantly, how many times I let her lick my face without asking where that tongue has been.
Out of the Wilderness
“Aruba, Jamaica, ooooo, I wanna take ya…
to Bermuda, Bahama, come on, pretty mama!
Key Largo, Montego, baby why don’t we go?”
I woke up singing the lyrics of “Kokomo” by the Beach Boys. It’s one of those disappointing mornings when you realize the dream you just awoke from is better than real life, know what I mean? This time I was part of an all-male quartet singing about a tropical paradise that may or may not actually exist. You should’ve heard my vibrato! The dream probably came from my subconscious desire to be a good singer. Or my very conscious desire to be somewhere beachy. Today, neither are true. But all through breakfast I sang like no one was listening! Much to the dismay of those who were listening.