Monthly Archives: October 2012


This year, for the first year ever, Cutter and Tug have managed to find a bunch of flea friends and bring them home to us so today Miss Carol and me wrestled them into our shower and gave them a bath and drowned their little flea buddies.

I did the wrestling and Miss Carol did the bathing.

Once Tug was done and sitting forlorn and wet-rat looking in the corner of the shower I grabbed Cutter and pulled/pushed/struggled him into the shower.

Nooooooooo, he pleaded, planting his paws on either side of the entrance to our shower.

Dude, I grunted, pushing him into the shower and Miss Carol.

Tug sat looking morose and defeated and Cutter looked back at me all doe-like. Please, he said.

You guys are Labs, I said, breathing hard and bent over, my hands on my knees. What’s the matter with you two?, you’re supposed to love water, I said.

Miss Carol started to spray nice warm water on Cutter and he hissed at me, We don’t.

Yeah, Tug said. It’s the ignominy. And looked pathetic.

Cutter glanced over at him while Miss Carol was sudsing him. The what??, he said.

The ignominy, Tug said again and settled back and forth a little. Ya gotta realize, he said, the first time we ever got a bath we were taken away from all of our brothers and sisters and the only nice warm little home we’d ever known and were given to you, he said.

Not that that’s a bad thing, Tug said hastily.

Cutter glared at him while Miss Carol rinsed.

Ignominy? Cutter said looking at his brother. Where’d you learn a word like that?

Tug shrugged and stood and shook the water off of him.

Does this make me look fast?

In another inexplicable unexplainable chain of events I found myself on Saturday saddling up to ride my bicycle 25 miles for a charity sponsored by a little church in North Carolina I’d never heard of.

My little brother and Miss Carol had decided last spring that they were going to ride the 50 mile course and somehow convinced me I needed to join them in their efforts and at least ride the 25.

In a moment of weakness I agreed.

I blame alcohol.

So I got a new chain and new tires ’cause the old ones had rusted and dry-rotted, respectively, did a ‘coupla deep knee bends, strapped on my required gay-ass helmet, plugged iTunes and headed out.

The first mile was hard and the others were harder. But the hardest thing was finding something to think about, or do, to pass the time. iTunes helped immensely but it wasn’t enough.

For a time I looked around at the homes and stuff we were passing at 12 miles an hour until I started noticing the mile markers that North Carolina has thoughtfully placed at EVERY HALF MILE along their roads.

Thank you North Carolina.

So then I looked at the horizon but the horizon never seemed to get any closer so I stopped doing that.

Then I tried just closing my eyes and listening to the music but that didn’t work very well either for obvious reasons.

Finally I just pedaled and wondered what other people doing longer races thought about.

And guess what? I won. I actually finished first.

This is what happened- only 10 of the riders took the southern 25 mile route, (Let me explain- the 50 mile course was divided into a southern half and a northern half, the northern portion being the nicer waterfront ride, the southern being the easier for my little brother to find me and rescue me when I bailed on this bullshit) and for probably the same inexplicable and unexplainable reasons that led to this nonsense in the first place Miss Carol and me wound up leading the southern routers and then with about 6 miles to go, Miss Carol got tired of my slow ass, hit the gas and disappeared over the horizon I was trying not to look at.

I pedaled on wondering if maybe I’d missed the turn when I saw Miss Carol stopped at the turn-off and talking to my little brother and his cupcake and telling them I’d probably miss the turn if she didn’t wait for me.

But I didn’t and I powered by with a primal scream and iTunes rocketing around in my head and pedaled like a madman to the finish.

Woo-hoo. I’ll never do that shit again.

Tug. With babushka.

A weird chain of events was unleashed about a week ago when I was walking the boys.

Tug had stopped to smell something probably unpleasant at the base of a post. He yelped and I saw a big, black wasp sitting and sneering at me so I thought he’d been stung.

Tug’s ear swelled and swelled until even Miss Carol felt uncomfortable. She thought briefly about poking a pin into it until I reminded her she’d have to go it alone.

Call me squeamish.

Instead, Miss Carol called the vet and I took Tug in. Turns out he’d shaken his ear into a hematoma. Come to find out, a Tug can shake his head so vigorously that he can and could and did separate the skin flaps in his ear. The capillaries burst and filled his dog ear taco with blood.

Enough?. I think maybe yes.

So anyway. We took Tug and Cutter to the vet and while my little brother and his cupcake walked Cutter around the parking lot endlessly, Tug had lots and lots of bloody mucus-y stuff sucked out of his ear flap which was mummy wrapped to the top of his head so he couldn’t shake it for awhile, but leaving his ear canal wide open.

We got home and I fed them before their walk.

I’m not hungry, Cutter said.

Me too, Tug said, looking sadly mournful, his head being wrapped in bandages.

Cool baby, I said, wanting to get the walk done and maybe take a shower and relax with a cocktail.

We were strolling down the street when Cutter glanced over his shoulder at me and said- he looks like a turd.

Tug looked hurt.

I pulled them along, wanting to get the day over, when all the sudden Tug stopped and said, I hear the crickets moving through the grasses.

Cutter stared at him. What the fuck are you talking about?, he said to him.

And I hear the clouds moving through the sky, Tug said, grinning, his eyes closed and his bandaged open ear cocked to the sky.

Cutter sat and stared at him and then he turned to me. What did you do him?, he whispered.

Nothing, I said, and smiled. I was enjoying it.

Tug turned his attention to the ground and said, I can hear the grass growing, his grin huge and happy.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Cutter said and pulled us all forward.