The Puppy is the dog I rescued from a broken down Peugeot in the mountains of Southern Spain. She is weird and awkward and anti-social and that makes me love her even more because she’s just like me.
I Look Like My Dog
They say a dog and its human often morph into the same being, separated into two bodies and it’s true. Not only do we have the same personality, but we sort of look alike. She’s like Jerry Seinfeld’s girlfriend in that one episode, where, depending on the light, she’s either gorgeous or hideous. Some people think I’m ridiculously gorgeous and some people think I’m only ridiculously attractive. My Puppy, just like me, is almost too beautiful for this world. I shower her with brushes and pets and gentle face kisses on an almost hourly basis. I’m like a crazy cat lady only my cat is a weird dog and I have a pair of hairy balls. So it took a lot for me to ignore her for the last two days. But I did. I had to.
Opossum v Dog
What happened to cause me to ignore the one great love of my life? An opossum happened. My life’s one great hate.
I let her out the door at ten pm and saw her bolt down the stairs like a tee-shirt from a tee-shirt cannon at the sort of event where costumed men walk around shooting tee-shirts out of cannons. By the time I made it downstairs I saw Puppy going full spaz (and you never, ever, go full spaz) and a pair of glowing, blind eyes, razor sharp teeth and a two inch bald tail. My dog had cornered an opossum.
“Puppy no, help, no, Karen Help Me! Hey, NO NO NO!!!” I calmly commanded the dog. The diseased demon devil somehow managed to scamper up the wall in a split second while my dog growled and whined and I screamed for my wife to come and save us all.
Instead of burning through the ether and going back to the depths of hell where it belongs, the fugly, rabid fucker ran back and forth along the wall, hissing and spitting opossum Ebola/rabies/AIDS/swine-flu at us while my hapless dog followed along underneath like a dog chasing a mechanical rabbit at a greyhound track.
I finally got the Puppy to come in. Every ten minutes I peeked out the door, flashlight and butcher knife in hand, motorcycle helmet on head, I saw the little bastard still there baring its teeth and hissing bloody murder. I went to sleep at midnight and dreamt of hordes of murderous opossums pillaging and raping their way across the lands until they ended up in California where they started a cult and got a movie deal.
Why Am I So Afraid Of Such A “Cute” Little Mammal?
When I was sixteen or seventeen I was partying in the woods. When a girl led me up a hill, atop a small clearing, I couldn’t believe my luck. I was half out of my mind on alcohol, smoke and teenage hormones and just when the going on good, I saw a bunch of small, bright lights coming towards us up the hill. I alerted the girl by removing my tongue from her mouth. We both looked on, too high to move, as what looked like six, then eight, synchronized lights made their bouncy way towards us.
Then the small, glowing, orbs hit the clearing and the moonlight revealed four opossums scampering towards us, making mewling sounds and grinding their teeth. I screamed louder than you’d think possible, threw my beer in their general direction with a distinctly girly arm and ran as fast and as far as I could which wound up being in a part of our bad neighborhood made worse by the fact that I was from the other part of our bad neighborhood. I made it out without being murdered by small boys or small rodents but an important part of my mind died that night all the same.
The Puppy needs to learn not to fight the things she doesn’t like. She needs to learn to ignore those things and stay as far away from them as possible and pretend with all her might that they don’t even exist. I’ve already forgiving her but I’ll wait a few more days before I resume kissing her so I can be sure she doesn’t have opossum Ebola/rabies/AIDS/swine-flu.