Bandit here! Two days in a row. I can hardly believe it. I'm kinda glad my Dad's in a mild state of depression. He actually slept until 7:30 this morning. He never sleeps that late. So what to write about? I thought today I'd pick back up on some of my little dramas and explain to you, from a dog's perspective, how I see things.
Rick has taught me that everything's a big deal, everything from busting a wine glass to losing a boyfriend. So, in that respect, I've grown to learn that things like the Nate Berkus Teddy Bear that sits on Dad's bureau is tragic, especially if it's not on the floor with me in my mouth. For instance, last evening I sat on the edge of Dad's bed staring up at the bear. "I want that fucking thing," I said. Daddy's also taught me those vulgarities, not quite sure what it means but it gets the point across. Rick understands vulgar, usually relates well.
Yet Rick didn't hear me.
I kept on for about an hour till Daddy finally woke up, got mad enough and gave in. "Bandit this is my Goddamn teddy bear! Not yours! But here...have it!" He threw it on the floor.
I gave it a sniff or two. Then the guilt swept over me. I felt awful. I made him mad. I can't very well throw this thing up and around in the air now, disembowel it like I do my own toys. So I let it be, hunkered down in my crate and went to bed. As I drifted off, I watched the little Teddy Bear lying face down on the hardwood floor. I thought of Nate Berkus losing his lover to the Tsunami and how he created this foolish bear as a symbol of love. I looked up at my Dad now tossing and turning in his bed and went to sleep.
The other day I was out walking with Dad, my tattered red leash, that I've had since a pup, and our bond the only things holding us together. Daddy had downloaded some new iTunes onto his iPod and was listening to them. Distracted, he moseyed along. I did my usual sniffs here and again, pretty much at every tree. "Bandit, c'mon." Dad said with a little bit of frustration giving a little tug to the leash. That's usually my sign that I've spent a little too much time at the fair. I was hanging around the McCarthy's maple a little too long. It was getting chilly so Daddy reached into his black cashmere coat to put on his leather gloves but in doing so didn't realize he let go of my little red leash. He was deep in thought. The dirge of Lou Rawls' You'll Never Find rang into his ear.
Finally done with the McCarthy's maple, I looked up to see Rick moving out without me. He was already by the house -- the one that's been for sale for almost a year -- the one with a really cool fire hydrant that I like to frequent. I watched him walk away. I titled my head in confusion. 'Where's he going?' I thought. I looked down at my little red leash dangling by my side. Daddy held fast to his iPod. "You bastard! You're leaving me." I yelped. The volume on his iPod was too loud for him to hear. "Fine. Go on...walk out the door!"
Suddenly, I could see the panic take over his body. There was no Bandit-tug holding him back at the fire hydrant. Instinctively, he knew something was amiss. He turned around. No leash. He saw me cocking my head in a state of confusion. "Bandit!" He yelled. The iPod plugs yanked from his ears: Whoa, I'm not tryin' to make you stay, baby...But I know some how, some day, some way...You are gonna miss my lovin'! blasted from the little ear buds as he ran over to me.
I looked away, playing hard to get. 'Don't let it happen again,' I thought as he picked up my leash and led me back toward the fire hydrant.
I sat on Daddy's lap last night as he ate a delicious meal of pork tenderloins and pasta. Occasionally, if I'm good, he'll let me sit with him like this. I usually get a bite or two from his fork but last night, he wasn't doing it. "Look I'm not up here for my health." I grumbled. "You probably think I'm sitting here to be affectionate and all but to be completely honest I just want a hunk of that pork. Please? Just give me a bite?" I said. You have to be blunt with him. He is with everyone else.
Completely ignoring me, he took a sip of wine.
Fine I said jumping down from his lap, maybe Papou will offer up a taste. From lap to lap I went, no one was giving in which meant only one thing. It must be really good. "Damn it! I'm here!" I grumbled even louder. "Is anyone listening to me?"
Finally, Daddy pulled out of his thoughts and his second glass of Pinot Noir, knelt down, picked me up and gave me a morsel (I mean a morsel) of pork. It was good. I just wanted a little bit more.
Alright, Daddy's gripping about something. I gotta go check in on him. Something about coffee grinds in his cup. Lord help me!
Over and out...