Sunday, September 07, 2008

Three dogs now, when it's time to start having the creeps.

I was walking down the street the other morning, and the nervous lady that used to have a rottweiler except then her husband moved out, came out to say hi. She has a bunch of kids crammed in her tiny house. They're in school now. Don't walk by her house so much, now that there's no Timmy, no need to go on her street hardly ever. I always feel sort of bad for the nervous lady. It's a lot of kids crammed in that little house, shaped like a mobile home and no yard except a tiny speck of grass in the front. She's skinny and shaky and the ex is this big guy that always gave me the creeps.

Told you it's creepy season.

She comes out, looks at the dogs for a second, goes, "Where's the other one?"

"He died this summer."

Looks me dead in the eye. "Did he die-die or you put him to sleep?" Like, seemed important for her to know this fact. Once she helped me look for my cat when it was gone a few days.

"We euthanized him. He got real sick. He was old."

She doesn't really say anything. Just looks at me. I look back. She's a little extra stare-y and freaks me out so I look at her shoes. Those slip on Keds kind. White. Notice her grass speck. Green. She waters. In the world of manners, her turn to say something. I am waiting, nervous lady. Using my manners.

She doesn't. I just go, "Well, nice to see you. We gotta get to work." Keep on walking down the street with the 3 dogs.

Like a minute later, Gustavo got scared of a empty 40 ouncer laying on the corner and gave it freaky growly barks til I pulled him by. Bobby, who owns the Korean market on across the corner, he saw that. I was thinking it was sort of funny, dog nervous of a beer bottle laying on the sidwalk. Look over across the street, at Bobby just standing there on the front mat of his market, having a smoke. Watching us. I smile and wave. We buy lottery tickets and potato chips and ice cream there. He just goes back in the store.



Blogger team small dog said...

Hell, don't send Team Small Dog dinero, we have a damn job. We just pick spending the money on the sliding glass door and repainting the house.

Here's who needs some money. She's a teenager. Dog is sick. They are both cute and blonde, but don't let that stop you. Aw, dog's damn name is Wrinkles for gods sake.

I do like the paid mentioning angle. Very online paparazzi financial model-good out of box thoughts there in dog show reporting funding.

September 7, 2008 9:26 AM  
Anonymous jen wood said...

It's like the creeps mixed with a sense of loss/nostalgia type blues...every fall!!! :o(

September 7, 2008 12:48 PM  

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