It's been pulverizingly hot the last few days and this means a few things: everyone feels like crap; when I go for my walks it's really slow because the city is full of shirtless men and men in shorts and the Boys (should it require iteration) are queer; I sleep a lot and don't do a lot of exercise. All of these things came together the other day when I was out with Skeeter. We were at the end of the block where we normally cross to come up the block again. We were waiting at the light when Skeet went: "Hamana hamana hamana!" This noise, for the uninitiated, means he has spotted a particularly hot/semi-naked guy. And sure enough, there, at the outdoor café on the corner, sat a young man with his shirt open who had the kind of chest I know Skeet dreams of: hard, lean and hairy. (Now, if you'll excuse me, I would like to spit out the little bit of barf that just came into my mouth.)
So Skeet, using me as he is wont to do, said, "Stall." What this means is that I try to position us near the sexual object in question and take lots of time to sniff, etc., so Skeet can stare at the guy. "I'm really getting tired of being your beard," I muttered.
But then something truly happy occurred. When we crossed the street to the café who should I see hidden behind one of the decorative flower boxes but Cleo! "Hey!" I barked and dragged Skeet over. In an even happier circumstance this placed him just ahead of hairy hunk. "Hey Cleo," Skeet said and she mewed and, then to me he said: "Take all the time you want to catch up." The pig.
Cleo, unlike the last time, was happy to see me. "I've gotten used to street life," she said. "There sure are a lot of slow squirrels and birds around here so I'm never hungry." Though this was not the kind of "good" news I wanted to hear, I realized her life had changed and I had better get used to the idea because. I approached her and said, "Come over and put some of that stank on me." She giggled and said, "How street and how sweet and how ick." Then we nuzzled a bit. We didn't realize we had drawn an audience and several people at the café went: Awwwwwww. This broke Skeeter out of his chest-worshipping reverie and he smiled at everyone. Cleo and I felt a little self-conscious but probably not as self conscious as Skeeter who had to explain to the audience that he was looking away from us because he was "trying to give the two their privacy." I noted several in the café (including hairy hunk) watched Skeeter like he was a madman and potentially dangerous.
Back to us...
I started to prance with joy at seeing my beloved and she smacked me in the nose. Then she said, "Do that again." I was confused and said, "Jump around like a fool and make you nervous?" "Yes," she said so I did and she purred, "You've been working out! What happened to my pudgy little Jack Russell? Where did those leg muscles come from?" I crowed a little (in Dog Speak that's like a yawn with a little whinny at the end).
"Well, that's a story," I said to her and told it.
Two weeks ago the Boys were watching—you guessed it—"The Dog Whisperer" and the nasty little Mexican showed how you could exercise your dog by getting him to run beside a bicycle while you rode it. Boo-Boo's eyes lit up and he said, "I'm going to try that!" and on the next sunny day he did. At first I bucked and resisted like I was rabid but it boils down to two choices, finally: running with the bike; getting dragged like a cadaver behind it. So I ran. I hate it hate it hate it hate it. We do it every morning now and, on top of that, the two assholes have cut my meals again and my body has no choice but to tone up and fat down.
"I like it," Cleo purred again and once again we nuzzled and once again the crowd at the café went: Awwwwww. What I hadn't noticed was that hairy hunk had gone and Skeet was now bored and impatient. But he can be decent, sometimes, and as much as he wanted to leave, he also knew we, on the ground, were joyful.
It was Cleo who finally broke up the party saying, "I'm hungry. Time to hunt." This wasn't your sleek little lap cat anymore. Skeeter leaned down to us and said to Cleo, "If you need anything, you know where we are, sweetheart." Cleo acknowledged the kindness by rubbing her head into his hand and then, without another word, she was off, dashing into an alley to get herself some lunch.
It's sort of sad but it's sort of not 'cause it's sort of real.
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