This is the Straight Guy (SG). Of course, he isn't sitting very "straight", in any sense of the word, but he's not far if I need him.
Mook B is away in Paris and it is the third day I have been alone with Mook A.
It started badly with A giving me a bath the first day. If you watch CSI or those shows, it seems to me that rapists sometimes force their victims to bathe before doing bad things to them. But as it turns out, in A's own charming turn of phrase, "If you're going to sleep in my bed, I don't want your filth and your nasty arse in there with me."
The first night was the worst 'cause I found out there's a ghost in the kitchen. A's bedroom is right off the kitchen and he left his door open so that I could wander or drink water in the night, but I didn't move from that fucking bed 'cause all through the night there were sounds—bumps, clunks and skitters—coming from there I had never heard before and I don't think I slept a wink. A finally got annoyed with me jumping up and down in the bed in consternation and yanked me over to the other side of the him and forced me to lie down and curl up.
The best thing about the time so far is that I almost got away. It was the third or fourth walk together and as we came out and when I usually sit as A lights his cigarette before starting, I decided to see what would happen if I yanked as he did this. Sure enough, the leash-handle flew from his hand and I was free. But here's the thing: this is a new leash (one of those extensible ones) and it all snaps back into this really heavy box. So as I ran down the stairs to get away, that fucking box was smacking me in the ass and when I got to the sidewalk my only concern was to get it away from my butt. Needless to say A caught up to me and what made it all so much worse was that Ginger was a few feet away watching this spectacle. She snerfed with disdain and I knew that my wooing of her had taken a giant leap backward.
So, just to assure A that he had not reacquired the upper hand, I decided to add something totally new to my repertoire! As we walked along this lady came over to pet me. At first I did my usual joyful song and dance for her but as her voice hit some level of delight, in octaves only a dog can hear, I decided to bite her. Not a playful bite, but a good little nip on the end of her fingers. She yelped and A pulled me back, apologizing profusely. As we walked away he was completely confused—as was the plan—and was saying, "What the fuck was that all about?!" It was soon forgotten, however, so on a later walk he wasn't expecting anything when this huge, hysterically happy and opera-soprano-high-voiced lady shrieked from across the street how cute I was and made her way towards us. I, again, did the little dance of joy but then, again, bit her too adding a series of maniac snarls for effect. The lady jumped back and said, "Is this normal for him?! Is he angry?! Is he happy?!" A just grinned stupidly, dragging me away, and said, "He's never done such things before." Heheheheh...
Except...
When we were out of view of civilized people he got insanely angry, knelt beside me, bellowed in my face and, for good measure, clomped me in the head with the leash-box. From then on, 'til today, he did not let me approach other people and when a little girl in the schoolyard begged to pet me he told her, in grave tones, "He's a mean dog, sorry."
Now, as I've said, there is a thin line between being the neighbourhood dog who's got 'tude and the neighbourhood dog who's out of his fucking mind and only the truly sick dogs want to cross that line, so I'm going to have to be careful about this or I see in my future short-leash walks and—save us all!—a muzzle. I wouldn't put that past A.
However, I am examining possible escape plans. Winter is coming and I really don't want to do the whole alleys and parks thing again so I thought that—should I get away—I'll run over to Straight Guy (SG)'s house. You know: the one who had the fire and lived here a couple of days? He owes me for taking up my space and maybe he'd keep me safe 'til Mook B gets back or until I can find another place to live. I don't want him to adopt me, no, 'cause I've seen his place (when Mook A was watering his plants this summer) and this guy is way too much of a clean-freak to want a dog around him permanently.
So, as you can see, except for the ghost in the kitchen (I wonder who it is!), nobody is dead and there haven't been any natural disasters.
Yet.
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