The name's Lewis. I live in Manhttan, and I need some advice ya'all. Here's the quick and dirty, yo, I come from a mixed marriage. My father was a Bassett. I'm told he left my mom right after he knocked her up. My mom, a Beagle, was left to raise the whole litter of us. For three long weeks, she slaved away, feeding us, licking us, trying to keep us on the straight and narrow, yo. Then I got adopted. I don't know what happened to my brothers and sisters. There were six of us. We're what you call a broken home.
My adoptive dad was cool. He took me to live in a small house in Da Bronx, up a small flight of steps. He wasn't rich. But he got by. He went to work every day to put food in my dish. He let me play out in the backyard a lot. I got to poop whenever, wherever. I won't lie to you: it was a good life.
But I was young. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to chase squirrels. I wanted to find my brothers and sisters. But more than anything, I wanted to meet a bitch. And there was no way my old man was going to let that happen.
So one day I ran away. At first, it was cool. I spent time with a pack of hounds living down by the river. We'd keep to ourselves during the day and then we'd go out all night. We'd run around in circles, howling the way only we hounds know how to do. I met a real bitch. Her butt smelled just the way a dog butt should smell: like shit.
But in truth, by then I was already jonesing for pizza crusts. And let me tell you, it was a big jones. Bigger than I ever could have imagined. It took me around corners, through dark alleyways, across a park, and suddenly, I realize: I'm all by myself. Not in an existential sense either. I was all by myself, literally. Standing by a dumpster in front of a pizza joint I had never seen before. I didn't even know how I got there.
That's when, out of nowhere, I got nabbed. I'm thinking that this guy in the blue uniform is going to give me some pizza, but then wham, a leash gets looped over my head. And the next thing you know, I'm in the system.
At first I didn't know where they'd taken me. But I knew it wasn't good. It smelled like dog, but not in a good way. I was behind bars, with a pizza jones the size of Queens County. And I missed my bitch. I missed my compadres. But more than that, I missed my human. How had I fallen on such hard times? I heard the other guys on the cell block talking about foster homes and adoptions. What no one talked about is the guys that just disappear. Usually they were old guys. Sometimes they were kind of mean. But one day they were there on the block. Next day, no one wants to talk about it.
I was depressed. It didn't take being in the system long for me to realize I needed to get the hell out of there. So I took to tail-wagging and face-licking. And when this small lady came up to me and picked me up - all 40 pounds of me, I pretended like I was a baby, and I grabbed on for dear life. Somehow, I got lucky, and the lady took me home. Somehow, I manged to get adopted.
But here's where the problems begin. See, this small lady who adopted me, she calls herself Mommy, she really needs my protection, but she doesn't realize it. I do my best. I sit at her feet while she's on her computer or watching tv, and I make sure no one can attack her. When she's cooking or eating, I stand guard to make sure no one's gonna steal her food. Trouble is, Mommy doesn't like it. She thinks like she's all big and powerful and could fight off one of those small humans who also call her Mommy. But I think when she lets them reach up to put their mouths on her face, she's just asking for rabies. Or worse! Especially that older one. He's always trying to strangle her. I refuse to lose another human. That's why I gotta do what I gotta do. So, I growl. But then Mommy gets all in a huff. She pushes my neck down like she's trying to be the Alpha. Ha. It's kind of endearing. But, mainly, it's funny.
Today, when we were walking down the street, I saw some dude in a uniform, like the kind of uniform the guy who picked me up off the streets was wearing. A cop, I think the humans call them. I'm sure he was up to no good. Then I saw him walking up the stairs of a house, just like the house I used to live in. And that was enough for me. I started barking, trying to scare the cop away, trying to scare everyone away. There was no way I was going to let anyone get tossed into the system like I was, for no reason, out of nowhere, apropos of nothing. And I sure wasn't going to let Mommy get nabbed like I did.
Trouble was, like I said, Mommy doesn't get it. She nearly blew a gasket - pulled my collar really hard and made me sit. And there was no treat at the end of the sit either.
So, Dear Doggie, what can I do to make Mommy understand that she needs me as a guard dog? That I am needed to keep the streets safe from cops? That the little humans who call her Mom might eat her if she's not careful?
Lewis from the Block
Monday, March 13, 2006
Copyright 2005-2007 Lauren Cahn, all rights reserved. Photos appearing on this blog may be subject to third party copyright ownership. You are free to link to this blog and portions hereof, but the use of any direct content requires the prior written consent of the author.
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- I live by a duck pond. I used to live by the East River. I don't work. I used to work a lot. Now, not so much. I used to teach a lot of yoga. Now not so much. I still practice a lot of yoga though. A LOT. I love my kids, being outdoors, taking photos, reading magazines, writing and stirring the pot. Enjoy responsibly.
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