This post contains fun anecdotes about animals.
When I wrote my piece for Kinani Blue about being persistent and consistent, a video of a clutch 90’s Saturday Night Live skit, featuring Adam Sandler and Chris Farley–The Herlihy Boy. If you’re not familiar with the skit, click the link, because the video is on there. It got me thinking about my current situation, and how lucky I am.
Part One: Korona
In one week, the responsible privilege of watching two animals has been bestowed upon me. Earlier this week, the sixth through the eighth, an Alaskan Malamute by the name of Korona (this dog my girlfriend according to her owner, fellow improviser Danielle) was in need of a
baby dog sitter. She is essentially a baby, a big and adorably fluffy baby.
She’s a smart dog despite her acting like a goof, craving attention, but you cannot resist petting those ears or rubbing that soft, white belly of hers. When she was dropped off by Danielle’s mom, we stared each other down. Her big brown eyes looked into mine, and there was intent that she was going to make me her bitch. My pondering this, hoping she would read me telepathically, was hope for a peaceful couple of days without her peeing or pooping anywhere.
If you look at the statistics of my dog watching track record, I do well–there is no choice–with the dogs that have irritable bowels. Korona took a few minutes to realize that I wasn’t going anywhere. So, to spite me, testing my patience, she peed on the carpet immediately. It’s strange having a dog state at you in the eyes as she is doing her business indoors. I howled, “Oh, dammit!” Her response was to howl back; it’s what she does (and it’s adorable).
She loves me, and looks up to me in what Danielle calls disgusting. She does that with a couple other guys (Ron and Frank), too; and she has good judgement. For example, John (a fellow who used to perform improv with us) and I were goofing around after practice one night, and he was doing Karate moves on me. Korona did not like this and went after him.
We immediately wrestled upon reuniting this round, and she doesn’t put up much of a fight. She knows me and she knows I’m a belly rubber. Here is an older picture of us at the beginning of our relationship. For perspective of Korona’s size, keep in mind that I am 6’1″ in height. Her body is a bit contorted, so you can’t really determine her full size until you see her baby bear-esque figure in real life.
Our nights were spent protecting each other from the vortex by running around the house and wrestling. On occasion, I would take her out more often than not to compensate for the cold temperatures and (my) inability to tolerate the blowing wind.
One night wasn’t too terrible, so we went for a walk after my eating dinner at my parents. Her excitement could not be contained, and she clomp-clomped her paws over to the door. Judging by her size you wouldn’t know the she would have a vertical jump, but she has an incredible one. Think of small yippee dog excitement. She can jump. Forgetting about this, I went to pet her head and ask her to chill out while my fingers unlocked the door. She jumped as my head, my face, was over her.
She looked up at me out oft he corner of her eye while she was peeing. She said, “I was made for this shit. Quit yer whining, human.” We proceeded to walk, and she kept running though the snow and stopping to roll in it. “You really like this, don’t you.” Korona stopped rolling and looked up with me, mouth agape and tongue hanging out. She didn’t have to say anything; I got the picture.
As soon as we got inside, we warmed up and she did as well by taking a dump in front of me. “Really?!?” My voice cracks from time to time, and this was one of those moments. Luckily, Korona’s poop is solid… well, that round was at least. Thankfully, I didn’t give her any human treats, and this consumption could have led to a more volatile bout.
Bets are placed on what she does when I’m not around, if she surfs the web on the computer, watches some television, and all these are proven wrong. One evening she decided to take on some light reading: she pulled all the books out of my satchel and chewed on them to see how they tasted. She didn’t like the Zusak or Fitzgerald, but she did take a liking to David Benoiff’s short story compilation When the Nines Roll Over. Korona read the front of the book at The New York Times compliment: “Smart, protean.”
Dogs really aren’t’ that bright, and she must have confused protean with protein. Books are books: mind food.
Part Two: Oliver
I’m having my third Oliver Session within a year, and it starts today. This means only one thing: blanket forts, red wine, and episodes of How I Met Your Mother. It’s destiny that he goes through the entire series up until this season. When this season has the ability to be purchased, we’ll probably go through the series again before watching it; he needs to be refreshed.
In case you forgot who Oliver is:
Checking in with him today was a must. I needed to drop off the movies I planned to watch. He knew I was coming, it was just when he didn’t know. Upon my entering Tara’s place, Oliver never came out for a greeting. It was eerily quiet, and it felt as if someone or something was watching me. Little did he know, his paws were visible from his hiding spot on top of the chair, which was pushed in under the table. Gratification he had, because I paid no mind. I unpacked a few things, the wine, before turning around to notice he was no longer present in that seat.
While looking at the door, it was noticed that he was not there. My eyes darted around and they even looked up at the ceiling.
You never know. Cats are cunning like that.
He rounded the couch, and strutted up to my feet. He didn’t brush against my leg, but he did look up at me as if to think: “Well, are you going to pick me up or not?” Oliver isn’t one for being picked up, but he stayed in my arms for a couple minutes–a record. He let me know that I’d woken him up from a nap, and he would not be purring for me.
There will be more Oliver stories as the handful of days pass. If there isn’t, the reason is that he’s busy proofreading my writing.
Part Three: Lou
Its nice to know that I have the opportunity to hang out with these animals, large and small. Animals are calming despite the variety having different personalities. Of course, all animals and breeds differ, so it cannot be said that all dogs are needy and spiteful or that all cats are independent and intelligent. However, the latter is primarily true. To call a cat needy is an insult, because they’ll simply walk away from you.
Lou is still my number one buddy. People, friends who read this blog, have asked for more Lou updates, which is found entertaining.
Lou is still Lou. He jumps on tables just to lay on newspapers and magazines. He still begs on kitchen table chairs for eggs, cheese, and butter. He still sleeps with me, and wakes my parents up numerous times in the middle of the night so they can let him out, wait for him to come back and open the door, and to do it all over again.
During the Vortex nonsense, he would lay on the vent constantly. When the geyser of warm air would erupt through the grate, he’d yell loudly. I’d come down to see what the hell he got himself into, and he would be lying there upon his back. Lou would then talk frivolously, bragging. “The heat! It’s back! Look at me! I’m friggin’ adorable.”
He must have ranted four times. It was hysterical. There was no clue as to what he was saying, of course, but it was obvious that he was having the time of his life on that vent.
Just don’t turn your back on him when he wants to play, or if you give him sass. He’ll swat you.