Aug. 26, from Louie, Day 87

Well, Pops, today we’re just gonna send you some nuggets, ‘cuz nothin’ really spectacular happened. (I’d send you 87 nuggets to mark Day 87, but there aren’t that many nuggets in a whole bowl o’ Kibbles, let alone one day with Mom.)

Louie 'n' Mr. Rav lookin' handsome.

Louie ‘n’ Mr. Rav lookin’ handsome.

Nugget 1: Our mornin’ hike was a measly hop through Sand Run ‘cuz Mom wanted to take Mr. Rav to the car wash  before it got too hot. Once upon a time, that woulda made a HILARIOUS letter all by itself, but Mom’s gotten pretty good at controllin’ that hissin’ snake of a hose, ‘n’ she didn’t fall on her butt once. But she did get a flatterin’ photo of me posin’ with a shiny clean Mr. Rav.

Can you spot Mom's spider web?

Can you spot Mom’s spider web?

Nugget 2: A coupla days ago, me ‘n’ Mom found a most intricate spider web hangin’ over our new back door. Mom even tried to take a picture of it to send to you, but you know, spider webs don’t photograph too well unless the light’s special right, so she had to scratch that idea. Seein’ as how Mom is so terrified of spiders, you’d’ve thought she’d’ve wiped out that web as soon as she saw it, but as she solemnly ‘xplained to me, some spider tore all its insides out just to make that design ‘n’ catch it some dinner, so Mom decided to just leave it alone. ‘N’ that woulda been the end of the story, ‘cept this mornin’ whilst I was tryin’ to get a tan on my bare nether regions, Mom suddenly started howlin’ like she was bein’ attacked by a band of orcs, so naturally I leapt to my feet most adroitly ‘n’ galloped to her rescue. Well, Pops, I slid to a stop on the patio, ready to sink my fangs into some fat orcs, ‘n’ ended up laughin’ my head off instead. You woulda, too, if you’d’ve seen it. Mom had been sweepin’ the patio, ‘n’ in her befuddled old age had forgotten that darned spider web, ‘n’ she backed her head right into it. So there she was, hoppin’ up ‘n’ down ‘n’ battin’ frantically at her head with the broom ‘n’ wailin’ somethin’ pitiful. I got quite the belly laugh out of it, specially when she run into the house ‘n’ stuck her head under the shower, frantically tryin’ to get the spiders outta her hair. (There weren’t none, but you couldn’t tell Mom that. She was havin’ hysterics.)

Nugget 3: Despite my lectures, Mom hasn’t got the ‘xplorin’ bug out yet, ‘n’ this afternoon, she drug me to some place called Patterson Park a coupla blocks off Tallmadge Avenue on some place called North Hill. Well, it wasn’t QUITE as bad as that Waters Park place, but it had vibes I didn’t appreciate. At first glance, it looked like a nice little park with a coupla rollin’ hills ‘n’ a softball field or two ‘n’ some nice shady spots where a dog like me could take a leisurely poop. But we was immediately surrounded by piles ‘n’ piles of litter. (Fortunately, Mom had forgot her garbage bag, or we’d STILL be there pickin’ up beer cans ‘n’ potato chip bags ‘n’ pieces of trash that shouldn’t be touched by human hands nor canine paws.) There weren’t any men (?) sleepin’ on the benches, but there was LOTS of young gentlemen hangin’ about here ‘n’ there conversin’ in words neither me nor Mom understood. ‘N’ the ballfields was most sadly neglected, even though the grasses had been recently shorn. Well, I did my business post haste, let me tell you, ‘n’ I tried to haul Mom back to Mr. Rav, but she squared her shoulders ‘n’ said as long as we was there, we was gonna hike the perimeter. So we did. But it was a sad hike. As Mom said, it coulda been an oasis in an otherwise downtrodden neighborhood, but it was poorly maintained, ‘n’ the few folks who was usin’ it didn’t look like playin’ in the park was their main purpose, if you get my drift. So we escaped, ‘n’ Mom acknowledged that we prob’bly won’t be takin’ you there for any hikes. Thank Dog.

Nugget 4: I was takin’ a well-deserved late afternoon nap while Mom hid in the storage room, paintin’ AGAIN, when I was rousted from my dreams by yet another howl from Mom. So I dashed from the couch, through the kitchen ‘n’ into the laundry room (which is really as far as I care to go), fearin’ the worst. You know how Mom is with ladders. But instead of writhin’ in pain on the floor, she was hootin’ ‘n’ hollerin’ ‘n’ raisin’ her fist in triumph. “Done, Louie!” she jabbered. “Done, done, done, ‘n’ I’m never ever paintin’ again!!!!!”

Well, I cheered right along with her, ‘cuz, Pops, that paint is really stinky ‘n’ it fogs up my finely honed sense of smell. I’ve had to put up with this atrocity since the end o’ June, when Mom first started on the new doors, ‘n’ then worked her way around to all the back windows, ‘n’ then the fireplace, ‘n’ then the water heater door, ‘n’ then the liquor ‘n’ dog food cabinets, ‘n’ then the door to the laundry room, ‘n’ then to the many walls ‘n’ ceilin’s ‘n’ cabinets of the storage room. I didn’t think the agony would EVER stop. But Mom swore tonight she’s finished, ‘n’ tomorrow she gets to start the really fun part — puttin’ everythin’ back together again.

I don’t see where all this paintin’ has made things any nicer — in fact, everythin’ smells a whole lot worse — but Mom is now happy, so I  guess we should be, too. ‘N’ maybe by the time you get home, the house won’t reek of paint fumes.

Hopefully yours,


Pops replies:

Ms. Corolla suffers through the Stanislaus fire.

Ms. Corolla suffers through the Stanislaus fire.

Oh, Louie: Your nuggets are always so tasty. I can just picture Mom all tangled up in that most intricate spider web. But about that park … hmm … me thinks sometimes it’s a darned good thing that you are so ferocious looking. Thanks for protectin’ the homeland, even when it’s traveling.

p.s. Here’s a photo of Miss Corolla taken on Ash Wednesday.
Published in: on August 26, 2013 at 9:29 pm  Leave a Comment  

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