BEEN A LONG TIME

Been awhile since I wrote. Sorry y'all, if you read this. Sorry that I haven't kept at it is what I mean, not sorry you read it. It is your own fault if you read it.

Our neighborhood is changing. I am not going into details other than to state that I miss my big black loud impressive dog a lot. I have made arrangements to get another, but it will start at ground zero as a cute little fuzzy thing with a silly look and shark teeth.

This visage does not strike fear into my heart, were I to see it through a window, nor do I suspect it would do so if I were breaking into a house.

Someone opened the door of my Van, which has been parked, unmolested and unlocked on the street for 9 years, and took my toolbox. It had drugs in it and I hope the little bastards took every single pill because they were Flagyl and Antispasmodic and they may never poop again. (But "high" is not something that is likely to be a side effect.)

Last night I was watching a terrible movie, one of the worst movies I have EVER in my ENTIRE life seen (nevermind why.) and a big SUV pulled up in the rainy street next to my Van, facing the other way.

I turned off my light and lifted the shade and they seemed too far out in the street to be at the house across from me.
They pulled forward a little.
I flipped off the TV and got the big Cop Flashlight and turned it on in the living room and pulled the curtain, shined it out the window toward the two Vans. The SUV pulled forward a bit more and I  then stepped to the door, opened it, and shined the light directly on the back LP holder. The rain, the distance, and the angle made it impossible to read but when they realised I was not looking at THEM but at the plate, they took off.
I called the cops.
This morning I confirmed that the SUV had nothing to do with any of the neighbors and that in fact two were watching it as well, and watching me.
After I came in the woman across the street came out, turning on her floods, and making sure her car was locked.
The neighbor next door had quietly stepped out of his house in the dark and went back in.

While it is nice to know I have neighbors watching my back as I watch theirs, it made me sleep with Conley.

I'm sorry.
I love Conley to pieces but sleeping with Conley is not like knowing you have a big black dog in the LR, with one eye open.

OMINOUSNESSNESS

Dis da boyz agin.
We gots ominousnessness here.
We gots a crate up wif nobody init. Juss sidding dere empty. Uh hunh.

Dis conjuregates up pixshures ob ---- oh man I no wanna eben say it--- PUPPY.  Not any normal puppy needer. Won ob dem blak wons, whut you bet?

When we got heer Mr. Cooper Sir (may he rest an all dat) awreddy heer.

We da babes. We run round an nipple at he elbows. He a good sport dat won were an he speshually good sport wif Llewis.

But dis differement. Dis meen we gotta train HIM. (Her?) Naw-- MomPerson she like her guys.

How youse teech sumfin tallern a house to use he nose? Or scrabbel unner a fence?

I not sayin she gettin puppy enytime soon cuz I nose she not but I betcha she gettin won. I heer dem stories ob before my time an I nose she nebber been wiffout a Black Dog in mebbe 20 yrs.

Am we jellus? Nawww. Juss da way fings are, ynose? We do won fing, he do anodder. She lubs we all. Mebbe puppy meke she stop leakin alla time...we tries, an we bin good at it, but she need anodder black dog, yes she do.

            (Photo stolen from Google: generic BSD Puppy)

DAD AN WE WATCHES DA VENUS TRANSEX DA SUN

BY NIGEL, LLEWIS AN CONLEY

Taday somefin namt Venis--oh Llewis say it VenUs. Transex da---transect--da sun dat big hot fing hanging in da sky. Da DadPerson gots stuff let he watch dis wiffout burnin he eyeballs outen he head. We wented ousside ta help. Nigel reely werent ousside den but he come out later. So dis are story.

Dis da tellyscope fing. We bin tole not to mess wif da liddel nobs. Eben wif da steps dere we canit reech da liddel nobs. Ha Ha very funny DadPerson.

Here be da Llewis, sneeking off.

Here be da Conley, hoggin da camra.

Hi dere we heer we gone watch da sun do sumfin but firss....

                                   Llewis gotta sing

                                       an sing

                                an...uh....sing somemore

                              ok Llewis awreddy enuff

         You singin done wore me out, Llewis, you nose dat?
                                  What you watchin?

Nuffin.

But you nose whut we needs?

Oh no Llewis, Ise afraid to ask....

A SONG!!!

NO.

                     Is dat da moosik from JAWS I heerin?

                     It is. I fink it is. Dumdumdumdum

Whuzzat DadPerson doon youse fink?

Oh yeah dat sunny fing.

                     Dat high up youse fink we can reech dat?

You nose whut? Dat sun it say it 4 oclocker. Ain't dat dinnertime?

An heer we end.

MARKING TERRITORY

One year ago today. In maybe two hours from now. It began to rain and the wind picked up and as it whipped about the house it snuggled under a corner of the blue tarp on the roof, where the shingles had been removed down to the wood, and it played with the tarp, just for a moment, for it was a strong wind, and then it ripped it loose.

And inside the house, this house, the rain began to pour in. First I heard one drip in my room and as I went to inspect I found water rushing down the walls, rain pouring into the dog crates where the dogs huddled. I yanked the crates out of the rain and screamed for John and together we began throwing blankets, towels, sheets, anything we could find: buckets, bowls, tupperware, pitchers-- under the streams of rain but the harder we tried the worse it became and I picked up the phone and called the roofer --- because that is why the shingles were off-- and said, in a sentence made up completely, I believe, of four-letter words, please do come over and help us, we seem to be in a spot of difficulty....

THE BEGINNING

THE ATTIC STORAGE

THE CEILING

And like that. In less than twenty minutes, the house was ruined. Walls soaked, ceilings hanging by a thread, water 2" deep on the floor in every room but 3. Upstairs and down, uninhabitable. Boom. Like that everything in our lives was different and would never be the same again.

When we moved back in in September, as we unpacked, John took the tags the movers had placed on things; the tags  that read SZATON or sometimes SZOTAN , or SZATAN, and began putting them on other things in the house. On drawer handles and windows and the stove door, the fridge door.

It was a way of marking the house without pee. Marking his territory.

This is mine and this is mine and this is mine and I am not renting it I own it. I paid for it and I cared for it and it is MINE.

This morning I went for a bike ride before John was up. When I came home I could hear him moving around the kitchen and I knew what he was doing. One year ago today we were forced out of our home.
Today, he took the tags off.
We are home. The house is marked.

WHAT IS ON MY SCREEN DOOR AT TWO A.M

AND IN THE FRONT YARD....

DON'T ASK HOW I KNOW THIS

LLEWIS'S MORNING: a story without words

WHAT?

MUM'S DAY 2012

I want to tell you a little about my Mother, who died a number of years ago, wearing her peignoir set of the moment (hers were always quite elegant, not terrycloth). She and Dad were going to bed and she collapsed on the stairs ahead of him and died. She was 86. I think.

I have one brother, a retired doctor, the apple of her eye.
She had one little girl, me.
Here is what I suspect she wanted, based on my childhood (which was great, by the way.)
A little girl to sew dresses for, who would wear them happily.
A little girl to teach Ballet to, for that is what she did for awhile.
A little girl with interest in sewing, for she was an excellent seamstress.
A little girl who read and loved poetry and the written word, for she certainly did.
A little girl who liked to cook.
One who kept her room neat and clean.
One who happily took her bath every day.
One who played nicely with other children and did not hit them with bricks when they failed to let her be "teacher" when they played school.

And here is what she got:

A kid who carried dead squirrels around at the age of 3 because the neighbor shot them for eating his roof and then gave them to me.
A kid who dragged home every cat and dog she found.
A kid who took "short-cuts" home from school to meet dogs.
A kid who wanted a horse.
A kid who crawled around the front yard on her hands and knees whinnying (I was quite good, actually) and eating--yes, really eating-- grass.
A kid who hated dresses but loved levis.
A kid who played "War" with the boys.
A kid who lived for horses and dogs.
A kid who loved poetry, the written word and could read at 4 yrs old.
A kid whose room not infrequently caused my Mother to burst into tears.
A kid who never quite got the hang of what Mom wanted when it mattered.

But we loved each other, and I miss her.

Happy Mother's Day Mom, you did a good job with some crappy material.