My Dog

Sauerkraut Here!

Part of the reason I moved home was to help out my family and one of the things I do to help out is walk my dog. I try my best to walk him everyday, but I do better some weeks than others.

Some days I simply take him for a walk other days, when my mother works late, I take him for a walk and then over to my grandparent’s house so he can hang out with us, instead of being alone.

Anyways, I enjoy walking him much more in the winter because the cool air feels nice, once I get going. In the summer time I have to find pants that I won’t sweat my ass of in because I’m too self conscious of my “water waves” and the “chub rub” really hurts. Not to mention I have to stuff paper towels under my boobs to prevent them from soaking my shirt. You think I’m kidding, but I’m not. These bitches drip!

Anyways, today I went to get my dog, not realizing school had just gotten out and the kids were walking home. Sure enough when I hit the end of the driveway I saw a group of kids walking home. I don’t have kids so I can’t really gauge how old they were but I think they were old enough to be out of dippers, but still pissing the bed? Anyways, there was a little redheaded boy yelling at the girl in front of him “if you not nice to me, I, I, gonna, I gonna cut you.” Shocked I thought to myself, isn’t that my line?

Proceeding down the sidewalk I crossed paths with another child, a little girl, who told me “I didn’t need gloves.” Wondering why she was talking to a stranger I kept moving… You see kids scare me, what if I stopped to talk to that little girl and she disappeared, never making it home? They’d come looking for me! The stranger that was seen talking to her. I don’t play that shit. And this is one of the reasons kids make me very, very nervous. Anyways, I told the little girl that I did need the gloves and she asked me “why?” Still moving I told her it was because “my hands were cold.” From about five feet back she yelled “Oh!” Creepy kids! Where are your parents!?

Past, the jumping garage dog, the grumpy old men dogs, the fluffy white dog named “Max,” the shit fuck dog with the annoying bark, “Duncan,” whom I named him after the actor Michael Clarke Duncan because he’s a huge fucking golden retriever with a deep bark, past the “trashy house” dogs, the N.W.A dogs, and the psycho dog, I finally reached my house. There was my dog, too old to hear me approach, nestled on his Incredible Hulk blanket, in his fancy Dog-loo with a heating pad, placed next to his heated water bowl.

After the happy dance, I attach his fancy leash and head out for a walk, hoping he doesn’t take a shit in a neighbors yard or in the middle of the road, which is his new favorite thing to do. When we get to the park I take him off his leash so he can run about pooping and pissing on things, while I march a routine pattern around the park.

At first he does okay but it doesn’t take long for him to start foaming at the mouth and collapsing on the ground, that’s when I know he’s had enough. Heading home he tries to keep up with me, but the leash is dragging on the ground and I can see his hind legs shaking from the pain (Don’t worry he has doggy medication). I try to walk slower but don’t because I remember the time my mother and I took him for a walk in the park and he sat down, refusing to move... I had to run home in the summer heat, tits dripping, to get the car.

Eventually my dog and I get home, he can barely make it up the four steps into the house, sliding into the house because the rug that sits in the entry way rests atop a tile floor. Immediately, I show him to the water bowl, give him a dog treat that resembles a chocolate chip cookie and head to my room so he can lay down and catch his breath. If I keep moving, he’ll keep following me and never recover.

It’s pretty sad to see my dog getting old; he’s 12 years old, almost 13, that’s 76 in dog years. The hair on his chin and paws has turned gray and his spine protrudes through his brittle coat of hair, we have to soften his food with water and mix it with wet food so he can eat, and we have to make sure he's taking his hip and ear medication.  But I still remember when he was young, in fact, I remember the day I got him…

My cousin came to up to me at swim practice and told me “there was a surprise waiting for me at her house.” When I asked her what it was she wouldn’t tell me and for the next three hours I couldn’t stop thinking about my surprise, I didn’t even consider a dog. I remember it was October and by the time I got to my aunts house it was dark. I opened the front door and from the far end of the house this tiny, brown puppy with floppy ears came charging toward me, instantly I knew he was mine. Turns out my moms co-worker told her about him, he was at the pound, sentenced to die that day, so she went and got him. He spent his first few hours in our family being pushed around in a K Mart shopping cart.

For 12 years, my dog has always been around. I remember cruising around town in “The Rustinator” with him by my side, feeding him vanilla ice cream cones, and cheese when I was upset with my mother (I would leave the house and she would have to endure his smelly farts). I remember leaving for college, hugging him, crying because I didn’t want to leave him behind, but every time I came home to visit, he was there. He’s old now and still pretty dumb, but he’s very loving and just looking for some company.

I missed out on a lot of time with my dog and for that I feel bad, I’m hoping that I can be here for the remainder of his life and make it as happy as possible. I super love my dog.

That is all.

Sauerkraut