Monday, April 30, 2001

Monday. Another week... Yesterday was a pretty decent Sunday. Today's a pretty decent Monday. Yesterday I finally got inspired enuff to wash my car for the first time since I moved to New Orleans (last August). And I bathed the dog.

My dog, Keisha, is eight, going on nine years old. The last few weeks I've been falling in love with her all over again. After I moved to New Orleans she went through a period of extreme neediness and utterly neurotic behavior. She was obviously NOT happy about the move. And she started driving me absolutely nuts. I'd come home from work almost daily to find a puddle of dog pee in the kitchen. Every step I took she was under my feet. A couple of times she just walked up to where I was sitting, raised a leg and proceeded to piss right in front of me. And there was the terrible day I came home and found that she had eaten a 3 week old bean casserole that I had thrown into the garbage that morning. Regurgitated green beans are not a pleasant sight, especially when they're all over your bed.

Anyways, we're past all that now.

A little history on Keish... she was a found doggie. My ex, Dave, was walking to his car on the LSU campus one day. A muddy, skin and bones mutty little puppy started following him. He played with it a bit and then, near the LSU stadium, shooed it away. When he was getting into his car, he noticed the fleabag running around in the street. He jumped out of his car and yelled at her. She came running towards him and then past him, jumping right into his car. The first sign of abnormal dog intelligence... I'm still convinced it was all a scam on her part.

So, Dave got the dog he'd been wanting. Dave lived in a run down house in Spanish Town at that time. This was a couple of years into our relationship, the really good years. The thing I remember most about Keisha in the beginning is that she liked to sleep in his laundry basket in his big walk in closet. And she always wanted to get into the bed with us. And Dave always said no. Of course, as soon as he left the room, I'd pull her up into it with me. Eventually, she and I won and Dave let her sleep with us.

It wasn't long before we discovered that there was no fence high enough to hold Keisha. She'd climb any fence in her way. Even with a chain on her, she'd manage to climb the fence. I remember finding her one day, completely over the fence in the back yard, dangling halfway up the side of it, hanging by her neck on her chain.

Eventually, Dave, Keisha and I moved into together. Our best house was a gigantic 3 bedroom house in the garden district of Baton Rouge. Dave and Keisha were both snugglers, and heavy sleepers. I'm a light sleeper and I hate to be too hot when I'm trying to sleep. So, of course, I became the middle guy in the bed. There were a lot of hot sticky summer nights where I lay in bed, with a boy pressed to one side of me, a dog to the other. I was usually slighty miserable, but exremely happy.

This was the house where Keisha learned to open doors. If the screen door on the porch wasn't latched, she learned that she could jump up on it, pull it back and then run out of it before it slammed shut. And she could do this amazingly fast. Faster than I could ever hope to run. And then, for an hour or two, a little white blur would run past the house every few minutes, with a tauting gleeful laughing smile on its face. At first, I could lure her home with the promise of a car ride. That didn't work long though. Eventually, she'd get tired and collapse on the porch though. But, I'd spend the intervening hours convinced she'd wind up a white and red smear on Government Street.

There came a day when it was better for Dave and I to go our separate ways. He realized this well before I did. Our love had changed. Honestly, we'd become friends and not lovers a while ago, but the charade of trying to pretend we were still lovers made it hard to even be friends. The break-up hurt me terribly at first. I felt wounded, betrayed, etc etc... all the usual maudlin you've-been-dumped feelings. The one great thing Dave did in the midst of our separating was to let me keep Keisha. It made sense because he was moving to New Orleans to an apartment. I would still be in a big house with a big yard. The thing that got me through the initial stages of the break-up was unconditional dog love. When you're sitting in a dark room, sobbing, thinking that you're unloveable and forever damaged somehow, having a sweet confused looking dog come to you and lick the tears off your face is all the proof you need that maybe things are gonna be better.

But, there was one sad effect on Keisha of our break-up. Through-out our relationship, Keisha would only come to bed if Dave and I were both home. If one of was out late, she slept on the sofa in the living room until we were both home. Then she'd come to bed with us. When Dave left, she moved to the sofa. I always felt like she was waiting for him to come home. For a while, it made me sort of sad for her.

But... things got better for me. A new career. A new and very cool roommate. A new me in a lot of ways. And there by my side the whole time... Keisha.

Keisha does have one unfortunate tendency. She's a complete people dog. She loves people. But... she hates dogs. All other dogs exist for her to beat down. As far as she is concerned, there is no dog that she shouldn't be the Alpha Dog too. And she had one special arch nemesis.

Petunia, was a ratty little terrier, who lived in the next yard. When the neighbors went out of town, I walked her for them. She'd try to eat cat shit when I walked her. That was the kind of dog she was. And Keisha loathed her. Utterly, completely and totally. They had 2 great fights. The first time, Keisha had gotten loose from our yard. The neighbors came walking out with Petunia on her leash. Keisha came around the side of the house like a bullet, picked the entire dog up in her mouth and did her best to shake it to death. Sadly, Dave and the neighbor managed to rescue the little shit-eater.

A couple of years later, Petunia got loose and came into my yard. My roommate and the neighbor got them apart, but not without pulling one of Keisha's teeth out with the little monster. Amazingly enough, vets can sew dog teeth back into the mouth. The first time cost Dave and I about $150 in Vet bills, the second cost my neighbor $120.

So, last year, I got promoted to our Metairie store. And Keisha and I made the move to New Orleans. She's finally adjusted to her new surroundings. And she gets to see Dave on a semi-regular basis.

The best part of the move to New Orleans was that Keisha came back to my bed. I guess the shock of the move, the new apartment, unfamiliar surroundings, made her need the security that sleeping next to me could provide. So, now we snuggle most every nite.

When I'm laying on the futon reading a book and she climbs up on it and lays her head on my chest and just looks into my eyes, I know what it is to be content. Doggie love is good love.

Anyways... I think you probably get the idea...
April 30 2001 9:24 The True Blogging Begins...

Finally. I figured out why my stupid computer wouldn't take cookies. It was all my fault. I downloaded a control panel called Web Free a while back to stop the stupid animated ads on gay.com. I forgot to uncheck Supress Web Cookies in it. So... now I can log onto Blogger. Whoo hoo.

So, as soon as I take a nice warm bath, I'll come back and say something important... right...

About Me

Lafayette, Louisiana, United States