They didn’t talk much, although the one with the small, white hospital towel draped over his knees, offered that, “heart disease might be involved, too.” He took a drag from his cigarette as he waited for a response. You could see the tattoos covering his hand, the IV piercing the skin just above the word HATE spelled out on his knuckles, the smoke being exhaled. The other guy nodded. He had nothing to say. And with that the conversation disintegrated. Just space between them now. An unbroachable distance. Grief-struck and lost, a million miles apart, they looked through all the people passing by on the sidewalk in front of them, and stared off into other worlds.
]]>Today I have given the Blog over to Heidi, our Miniature Dachshund:
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Heidi like to party.
It true.
No big deal, just how Heidi unwind and have good time! Sometimes booze or drug act as social lubricant so Heidi can have sex with anonymous dogs.
Very exciting! Very, very hot!! Heidi love that, fun times!
Heidi always in control, though. Heidi could stop partying anytime she want. Heidi not on drug and alcohol leash, Heidi have dextroamphetamine on leash! Heidi always in charge! But then one night Heidi partying and Heidi begin to dig hole. Dig, dig, dig!! Heidi could not stop digging! Heidi crazy with digging! Would not notice if cheeseburger fell on Heidi’s head! In some sort of dig trance! And then suddenly Heidi come to and realize she have no idea why digging! Heidi not even know where she was!
Later, video of Heidi digging hit YouTube. Heidi not look right. Collar hanging all loose and stained, tail wagging strange and jerky. Heidi feel shame, Heidi bad dog that night.
Made Heidi stop and think.
Did Heidi have problem?
Heidi consider.
It true memory getting bad.
Always forgetting where bone is.
Sometimes have blackout and no remember how end up covered in mud. So embarrassing. Feel irritable all the time, especially if have to do stupid trick for treat! HEIDI HATEHATEHATEHATE THAT! AND WHEN TWO-LEGGERS MAKE HEIDI WEAR CUTE OUTFIT?!! HEIDI WANT TO DESTROY AND RIP TO SHREDS!! HEIDI WANT RIVERS OF BLOOD TO FLOW!!
Maybe Heidi have anger problem and not party problem. Maybe anger root and party only tree. Heidi take quiz to find out.
Q. How often do you become angry in a normal day?
Not all bark angry bark, but probably 3, 500 time a day.
Q. Do other people comment on your anger?
Heidi told BAD DOG all the time! MAKE HEIDI SO ANGRY COULD BITE BABY FACE OFF!!
Q. Do you believe you are critical of yourself and others?
No, Heidi good dog, very good dog. Two-leggers moron. Birds morons.
Cats morons. Bugs morons. Squirrels morons. So many, many morons!
Q. Do you tend to blame others for your bad luck or unhappiness?
Heidi have to say yes, it very true observation!!
Q. Do you frequently find yourself starting or participating in arguments?
Stupid question! Heidi stand up for what right! Twitter bring out troll-stupids and Heidi have to set them on fire!! You no want to get in flame war with Heidi!
Q. Have you damaged property during an angry outburst?
Yes.
Q. Have you ever physically harmed another person during an angry outburst?
Of course, Heidi great warrior! Heidi Dachshund! Whole point is to kill, it why Heidi go for neck!!
Q. Have you ever been charged with a violent crime?
Heidi no answer this question. Pass.
Q. Do you keep any weapons at home?
Heidi is weapon, motherfucker.
Heidi deadly weapon.
She bring you close with her velvet ears and coco bean eyes, then game over!
After the meal, Rachelle went off to run some errand with her sister while I decided to wander about the streets of our old neighbourhood.
Not sure where to go, I just stood on the sidewalk attempting the appearance of somebody who was making an important decision. This must have looked like providence to the woman walking by. She did a double-take, and then looked intently at me me, this man pulling an oxygen tank behind him lost in deep thought. She smiled, wanted me to know a bit about God, and handed me a pamphlet that asked the question, “Will suffering ever end?”
As if in answer to that, a street person immediately joined me on the corner. I would guess that she was in her 20’s, but she might have been younger. Through her wounded shell, you could see the beauty inside, how if just a few things had been different in her life, this capacity for joy would have blossomed.
She didn’t seem to want much more than company, as she just stood beside me, somehow assuming an immediate and willing position of subordination. It was as if we were now, and always had been, part of the same pack, and I was the Alpha.
Strung out and jittery, she kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other, sometimes moving in small circles in order to scan the horizon in all directions. Between her fingers she kept the small stub of a cigarette. There was little tobacco in it, but she worried it between her fingers like Rosary beads, asking each person who passed if they had a light. I tried to communicate to her that because of the oxygen tank I had with me, I couldn’t be around an open flame as it might cause an explosion, but she didn’t seem to understand.
I had to leave, but I didn’t want to. I felt protective, like she needed me there. I wanted to help her somehow, but the circumstance of my oxygen tank and her need to smoke were dangerous.
“Okay, I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
She looked disappointed.
“I can’t talk,” she began, “my words go away and I can’t find them, but I want you to know I’m big.” Her eyes were wide and she stretched out her arms, “I’m more.”
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