My dog Lester has a brain the size of a pistachio. Without the shell. Sometimes when I am working, I look down and slightly to my right and he’s staring at me with his eyes glazed and unblinking like someone who has been hypnotized. Then there’s the underbite. Isn’t an underbite always a sign that your parents were brother and sister? There’s also his passive willingness to let Darla dress him up in wigs and baseball caps or to let Harry put a tube sock on his head. He just sits there and lets them.
Oh Lester. Oh Laz. Oh Lazlio.
It could also mean that he is a superior being, possibly a genius. So far above all living creatures that nothing disturbs him. Not even a tuba played near his head while he sleeps. Maybe he is meditative, thoughtful, accepting of all. Yes, cover my head with a bucket and have a chuckle, I am filled only with love.
Of course, if you could listen to his interior monologues, you might just hear wind blowing, possibly the sound of tumbleweeds on sand. And that is all.
Daisy is a pleaser. The moment I open my eyes in the morning, she is sitting up and looking at me. What do you need? What can I do? How can I help? This can be annoying. Nobody likes a kiss ass. Or desperation. But she smiles too. It’s more like a grimace and a snarl. It’s curious, this smile. It keeps you guessing. It simultaneously makes you laugh and feel uncomfortable.
What the hell is happening? I’m talking about animals. I’m talking about my pets on a blog. Should I just keep going?
I hate cats but of course I have one (inherited from Mo) and of course I love him most of all. Why? He’s mother fucking Leroy that’s why. He seems friendly and like he cares about you, and then he shreds your arm with his nails and teeth. Shreds. I have seen him cause more than one adult to cry. He doesn’t care about you or the goddam horse you rode in on, so step OFF.
OK, I’ll stop. I’m done…
I think I just realized I described the three sides of my personality.