(no subject)
found a very old story i wrote for a class about her when i moved to NY in '98. it's funny how much influence Al seemed to have on my conversational style at the time. i'm not formatting it now because i have no time, and i recognize there are numerous other errors with it that i don't want to change - just let it be.
~Live Dog Walking~
21sept1998
Cr-r-r-r-eeeak!
My ears perk up.
Cr-r-r-r-eeak! ... a door shuts ... jingle, jingle
That wouldn't happen to be the leash, would it?
"Holly! Wanna go for a Walk?"
JACKPOT! In no time, I am out of my sunny resting spot and bolting down the stairs to apprehend the unsuspecting victim who dares to excite me with the prospects of another walk. There Laureen stands in the living room, Birkenstocks on feet, my leash in hand. You bet I want to go for a walk! As Laureen fails to put on my leash quickly enough, I help out by jumping around and talking incessantly. "C'mon! C'mon! get it on! Let's go!" Finally, I assume my post right in front of the door, ready to be the first one out. "Mum, I'm taking Holly for a walk, we'll be back later," Laureen calls back up the stairs, and we are out of there! We are ready to explore forests and groves and fields and lakes and subdivisions and who knows what other unforeseen territories. Off we go into the wild blue yonder of Shoreview, Minnesota.
"Holly," Laureen begins, "now that we're out of sight, let's get rid of this confounded leash." That is certainly fine by me. "D'accord, assiez-vous, s'il vous pl�it." I sit down and Laureen unattaches the leash and leaves it in the bushes. A-ha, freedom! Without further adieu, we are officially on our way.
I'm thinking that this better be a good walk, too. It seems like Laureen is hardly ever home anymore. When she is home, she spends so much time in her room, working or something like that. The big brown boxes are beginning to make it quite difficult for me to squeeze in there. Just yesterday, I watched Laureen take down some of the last trinkets and posters and whatnot in her room. It's because she is crazy. I mean get this, when we are on our walks, she speaks to me in this kind of Paris-talk, or something like that, and thinks I actually understand. I already mentioned how she is placing all of the stuff in her room into these large and ugly boxes. And then yesterday, she forgets my walk! Yup, completely nuts, you know what I mean? The wheel is turning but the hamster is dead. sigh Though at least she tries.
Anyways, let's forget about that, and I'll tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Holly and I am a canine, a dog, a pooch if you will. I'm a Chesapeake Bay Retriever, just over three years old and am the best damn dog in the world. (Not necessarily the most humble dog, but that's a whole other story.) I have short, curly, brown hair, large brown eyes, like long walks on the beach... you get the picture. I was born in a small town on a large farm where there were at least a hundred of us Chessies running around. I've been living the high life in Shoreview since the ripe old age of two months.
For the most part, I love it here. There is plenty of room for running, comfortable beds for sleeping, numerous cats for terrorizing, bundles of affection for sweet loving, and then of course the task at hand, great places for walking. Yup, I have it made.
So, Laureen and I are on the groove. We walk so well together, perfect form and everything. Oh look, here come the neighbors with those two cocker spaniels. They are the same age as I am, so it is a matter of pride for me to be friendlier and more behaved than them. The human friends of those cockers used to yell at me for being the unruly one. Ha, ha, ha, look who is laughing now! Calmly, Laureen and I walk by them, side by side, as those other two canines are all over the place.
pant-pant-pant "Hey there Holly! What's happening?"
"Just going for my afternoon stroll, friends. Yourselves?"
pant-pant-pant "Yeah.. Yeah! The same here, we're just getting back. Aaah, have a good time, and be sure to check out the new cat on the block over, definitely lookin' for trouble, if ya know what I mean. But we'll talk later, 'kay?"
"We're off as well, but I'll check into the cat. Have a good evening."
"You too, Holly!" the cockers call out before pulling their friends to their driveway.
Giving me one of those awesome ear rubs as soon as those two are out of sight, Laureen mutters another one of those weird phrases at me. 'Je t'aime,' I think she said. Who knows what that means, but my heart swells just the same.
We are still on the street of my residence, but slowly coming to the turn-off. We pass the house with the new cat. It's white, fluffy and very fat. It may be fun to pick on when Laureen isn't looking, but the cat seems too lazy to be that much of a thrill. Nothing like that neighbor cat, Cotton, or Rotten Cotton, as the nickname goes. That cat is a beast. He is very old and cranky. When I was just a puppy, I first made acquaintances. I attempted to be friendly by giving him one of my drooliest licks. To my horror, my kindness was returned with a claw-ready bat to the face. That left a nasty little scratch on my schnauzer for a good week. I may now be sixty some pounds heavier than that cat, but I wouldn't go near him for the life of me! The new pussy seems horribly boring in comparison, however. There must be some kind of middle ground! Oh well.
"Allons-y! Let's go!" Laureen calls out to me. The walk continues on outside of the subdivision and on to a busier road. We need to follow this road for awhile to get to the next path. I don't mind the busier road at all though. It runs past a large park with a big lake, many trees and green hills. The lake reminds me of two winters ago when I, and the rest of the family, would go out onto the frozen water for slipping and sliding, running and frolicking for hours on end. That sure wasn't going to happen this afternoon in late summer, but I can reminisce. Theoretically, Laureen could let me go swimming for a bit, but the dark is coming, and I sensed we were in a hurry. Maybe next time. So, on we go to the entrance of the forest, or the suburban heart of darkness, if you will.
"Assiez-vous, ma petite," I sit and wait for Laureen at the entrance of the lair. Should we or should we not go in? The forest is very dark and enveloping as though a heavy blanket is quickly draped about your entire existence as you walk further into the darkness. Out in the world of the living, it may still be early-dusk, but in the forest, night has already arrived. As we have done many times before, Laureen and I approach the opening and peer inside.
"Continuez," and we move forward. step-step-step Slowly and cautiously we move into the shadows. Who is to know what lurks inside? Hungry, grizzly bears, ferocious, blue monsters, demonic, axe-wielding clowns, ill-tempered sea bass with laser beams attached to their foreheads and other unsaid horrors could all be awaiting us to join their little forest party. As my imagination gets the best of me, I quickly decide to stand-up the invitation and turn back. Laureen agrees and follows out close behind.
We walk the next stretch of more-lighted road in a sort-of melancholic silence. An unsaid pact is agreed upon to take the forest route next walk. Countless times we have traversed the path in broad daylight, the mystery and excitement ooze into our daily routine by taking the path in darker hours. 'Next time we'll do it, next time..' I repeat to myself in my head. I have no idea what my friend, Laureen, is thinking at this point, however. To my relief, she has stopped the incessant singing and annoying banter, but her quietness irks me just the same. 'Yeah, next time we'll take the forest path,' I think to myself as we walk the last mile through the large meadow, back to the subdivision and around to the house. Upon arriving at our abode, I jump up on Laureen for one of my infamous and wonderful hugs, and then go inside to await my fresh, cool water. Outside, Laureen grabs my leash, and then comes inside. She gets me my water, and goes back upstairs where she actually begins moving those boxes out of her room. I go up to watch and attempt to help. It's the least I can do after the walk. I am quickly scooted out, however.
The next morning, we load boxes and suitcases into the van rather early in the morning. Strangely enough Laureen then takes a picture of me. I didn't think that much of it, because as I already mentioned to you, she has.. a-hem.. a few screws loose.
"Next time, Holly. No regrets. Je t'aime." Laureen says to me in my ear, almost whispering. I get a good scratching behind both ears, and I give her a strong embrace. She leans over to kiss me at the tip of my nose, right on the wet and gooey part, and then goes out the door. I jump up on the couch to watch as the van rolls out of the driveway with all the human family members aboard. Going for some sort of interesting activity and leaving me behind with the cats and hedgehog once again, I imagine. 'Hmm.. what's the method of the day for cat irritation?' I think to myself after watching Laureen wave to me from the window.
"Moohaha, oh kitty dears, care for a little bit of fun?" I call out with a diabolical grin.
Later that afternoon, the rest of the family returns sans Laureen and those boxes. You know what, though? She was probably just taken to the vet, or something like that. From time to time, the family has to take me over to the vet's with all of my things to stay for a few nights. shudder The cages we are kept in are annoying, but at least bearable. She'll handle it. Laureen has been there for an awfully long time now. I think I'm beginning to wonder what happened. Her sisters, brothers and parents have begun accompanying me on my walks which used to be unheard of! She told me 'next time,' and I believe her, but just wish it could be sooner rather than later. No one walks me nearly as far nor talks to me nearly as much. I'm also back to my leash which is no fun whatsoever. But, hey, that's how it goes�
"Holly! Wanna go for a walk?" a voice calls out in the house. Whoa! That's my queue. grin Catch 'ya folks later. It has been real nice chattin'.
~Holly~
~Live Dog Walking~
21sept1998
Cr-r-r-r-eeeak!
My ears perk up.
Cr-r-r-r-eeak! ... a door shuts ... jingle, jingle
That wouldn't happen to be the leash, would it?
"Holly! Wanna go for a Walk?"
JACKPOT! In no time, I am out of my sunny resting spot and bolting down the stairs to apprehend the unsuspecting victim who dares to excite me with the prospects of another walk. There Laureen stands in the living room, Birkenstocks on feet, my leash in hand. You bet I want to go for a walk! As Laureen fails to put on my leash quickly enough, I help out by jumping around and talking incessantly. "C'mon! C'mon! get it on! Let's go!" Finally, I assume my post right in front of the door, ready to be the first one out. "Mum, I'm taking Holly for a walk, we'll be back later," Laureen calls back up the stairs, and we are out of there! We are ready to explore forests and groves and fields and lakes and subdivisions and who knows what other unforeseen territories. Off we go into the wild blue yonder of Shoreview, Minnesota.
"Holly," Laureen begins, "now that we're out of sight, let's get rid of this confounded leash." That is certainly fine by me. "D'accord, assiez-vous, s'il vous pl�it." I sit down and Laureen unattaches the leash and leaves it in the bushes. A-ha, freedom! Without further adieu, we are officially on our way.
I'm thinking that this better be a good walk, too. It seems like Laureen is hardly ever home anymore. When she is home, she spends so much time in her room, working or something like that. The big brown boxes are beginning to make it quite difficult for me to squeeze in there. Just yesterday, I watched Laureen take down some of the last trinkets and posters and whatnot in her room. It's because she is crazy. I mean get this, when we are on our walks, she speaks to me in this kind of Paris-talk, or something like that, and thinks I actually understand. I already mentioned how she is placing all of the stuff in her room into these large and ugly boxes. And then yesterday, she forgets my walk! Yup, completely nuts, you know what I mean? The wheel is turning but the hamster is dead. sigh Though at least she tries.
Anyways, let's forget about that, and I'll tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Holly and I am a canine, a dog, a pooch if you will. I'm a Chesapeake Bay Retriever, just over three years old and am the best damn dog in the world. (Not necessarily the most humble dog, but that's a whole other story.) I have short, curly, brown hair, large brown eyes, like long walks on the beach... you get the picture. I was born in a small town on a large farm where there were at least a hundred of us Chessies running around. I've been living the high life in Shoreview since the ripe old age of two months.
For the most part, I love it here. There is plenty of room for running, comfortable beds for sleeping, numerous cats for terrorizing, bundles of affection for sweet loving, and then of course the task at hand, great places for walking. Yup, I have it made.
So, Laureen and I are on the groove. We walk so well together, perfect form and everything. Oh look, here come the neighbors with those two cocker spaniels. They are the same age as I am, so it is a matter of pride for me to be friendlier and more behaved than them. The human friends of those cockers used to yell at me for being the unruly one. Ha, ha, ha, look who is laughing now! Calmly, Laureen and I walk by them, side by side, as those other two canines are all over the place.
pant-pant-pant "Hey there Holly! What's happening?"
"Just going for my afternoon stroll, friends. Yourselves?"
pant-pant-pant "Yeah.. Yeah! The same here, we're just getting back. Aaah, have a good time, and be sure to check out the new cat on the block over, definitely lookin' for trouble, if ya know what I mean. But we'll talk later, 'kay?"
"We're off as well, but I'll check into the cat. Have a good evening."
"You too, Holly!" the cockers call out before pulling their friends to their driveway.
Giving me one of those awesome ear rubs as soon as those two are out of sight, Laureen mutters another one of those weird phrases at me. 'Je t'aime,' I think she said. Who knows what that means, but my heart swells just the same.
We are still on the street of my residence, but slowly coming to the turn-off. We pass the house with the new cat. It's white, fluffy and very fat. It may be fun to pick on when Laureen isn't looking, but the cat seems too lazy to be that much of a thrill. Nothing like that neighbor cat, Cotton, or Rotten Cotton, as the nickname goes. That cat is a beast. He is very old and cranky. When I was just a puppy, I first made acquaintances. I attempted to be friendly by giving him one of my drooliest licks. To my horror, my kindness was returned with a claw-ready bat to the face. That left a nasty little scratch on my schnauzer for a good week. I may now be sixty some pounds heavier than that cat, but I wouldn't go near him for the life of me! The new pussy seems horribly boring in comparison, however. There must be some kind of middle ground! Oh well.
"Allons-y! Let's go!" Laureen calls out to me. The walk continues on outside of the subdivision and on to a busier road. We need to follow this road for awhile to get to the next path. I don't mind the busier road at all though. It runs past a large park with a big lake, many trees and green hills. The lake reminds me of two winters ago when I, and the rest of the family, would go out onto the frozen water for slipping and sliding, running and frolicking for hours on end. That sure wasn't going to happen this afternoon in late summer, but I can reminisce. Theoretically, Laureen could let me go swimming for a bit, but the dark is coming, and I sensed we were in a hurry. Maybe next time. So, on we go to the entrance of the forest, or the suburban heart of darkness, if you will.
"Assiez-vous, ma petite," I sit and wait for Laureen at the entrance of the lair. Should we or should we not go in? The forest is very dark and enveloping as though a heavy blanket is quickly draped about your entire existence as you walk further into the darkness. Out in the world of the living, it may still be early-dusk, but in the forest, night has already arrived. As we have done many times before, Laureen and I approach the opening and peer inside.
"Continuez," and we move forward. step-step-step Slowly and cautiously we move into the shadows. Who is to know what lurks inside? Hungry, grizzly bears, ferocious, blue monsters, demonic, axe-wielding clowns, ill-tempered sea bass with laser beams attached to their foreheads and other unsaid horrors could all be awaiting us to join their little forest party. As my imagination gets the best of me, I quickly decide to stand-up the invitation and turn back. Laureen agrees and follows out close behind.
We walk the next stretch of more-lighted road in a sort-of melancholic silence. An unsaid pact is agreed upon to take the forest route next walk. Countless times we have traversed the path in broad daylight, the mystery and excitement ooze into our daily routine by taking the path in darker hours. 'Next time we'll do it, next time..' I repeat to myself in my head. I have no idea what my friend, Laureen, is thinking at this point, however. To my relief, she has stopped the incessant singing and annoying banter, but her quietness irks me just the same. 'Yeah, next time we'll take the forest path,' I think to myself as we walk the last mile through the large meadow, back to the subdivision and around to the house. Upon arriving at our abode, I jump up on Laureen for one of my infamous and wonderful hugs, and then go inside to await my fresh, cool water. Outside, Laureen grabs my leash, and then comes inside. She gets me my water, and goes back upstairs where she actually begins moving those boxes out of her room. I go up to watch and attempt to help. It's the least I can do after the walk. I am quickly scooted out, however.
The next morning, we load boxes and suitcases into the van rather early in the morning. Strangely enough Laureen then takes a picture of me. I didn't think that much of it, because as I already mentioned to you, she has.. a-hem.. a few screws loose.
"Next time, Holly. No regrets. Je t'aime." Laureen says to me in my ear, almost whispering. I get a good scratching behind both ears, and I give her a strong embrace. She leans over to kiss me at the tip of my nose, right on the wet and gooey part, and then goes out the door. I jump up on the couch to watch as the van rolls out of the driveway with all the human family members aboard. Going for some sort of interesting activity and leaving me behind with the cats and hedgehog once again, I imagine. 'Hmm.. what's the method of the day for cat irritation?' I think to myself after watching Laureen wave to me from the window.
"Moohaha, oh kitty dears, care for a little bit of fun?" I call out with a diabolical grin.
Later that afternoon, the rest of the family returns sans Laureen and those boxes. You know what, though? She was probably just taken to the vet, or something like that. From time to time, the family has to take me over to the vet's with all of my things to stay for a few nights. shudder The cages we are kept in are annoying, but at least bearable. She'll handle it. Laureen has been there for an awfully long time now. I think I'm beginning to wonder what happened. Her sisters, brothers and parents have begun accompanying me on my walks which used to be unheard of! She told me 'next time,' and I believe her, but just wish it could be sooner rather than later. No one walks me nearly as far nor talks to me nearly as much. I'm also back to my leash which is no fun whatsoever. But, hey, that's how it goes�
"Holly! Wanna go for a walk?" a voice calls out in the house. Whoa! That's my queue. grin Catch 'ya folks later. It has been real nice chattin'.
~Holly~