Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Walking the Dog--Plus Crazy Blog Fourteen

Walking the dog is an adventure in an apartment community. You never know who you might meet or what you might find--and that's besides other dogs. In our small square, there are eighty-four apartments. People work all hours and most nights when I take the dog out sometime after midnight for 'last call' before bed, there are still brightly lit apartment windows and even other people out walking their dogs. One night I counted seven other dogs and their owners out strolling around in the cooler night air.

In our square, we have two fenced off areas that contain dumpsters. When people move out (or in, I suppose) they place furniture and appliances they no longer need next to the dumpsters. And then it's a race to see who notices the new offerings first. If no one takes it by the next time the trash men come, then the apartment maintenance crew removes it. Saturday and Sunday, naturally are prime times for dumpster shopping.

So far, my husband has brought home a beautiful wood kitchen cart (stainless steel top), which only required a quick wipe down, a lighter kitchen cart (ditto), and three dining room tables. As we 'trade up', we end up giving the previous table away to someone else who needs it. That way it works for everyone.

The last table he brought home is going to need some work, but I love it. It has gorgeous tiles inset in the top, three leaves, and the rest is heavy oak. I really like this table. So imagine my surprise when I met a neighbor in the next building this morning who offered me the matching chairs. Turns out one of her neighbors gave her the set when she moved out...but the neighbor can't keep it as she's moving to a smaller apartment herself.

As I have mentioned before, my dog has terminal bone cancer and probably won't be around by Christmas. I don't know what excuse my husband will have for going dumpster shopping then. Now there's the polite fiction that he just happened to see 'this or that' while out walking the dog!


PS: When last Emmeline was seen, Shade had just been attacked by a zucchini. Herewith, the next episode in the Crazy Blog Serial...

All around them the zucchini zuukers were advancing. Emmeline nudged her goggles up to her forehead, allowing her glowing green gaze to singe the closest ones. Terrible screams muffled the desperate scrabbling of their retreat before the flashing green beams. As they fought to get away, she drew her laser saber with one hand while she fumbled in her toolkit for her peeler.

With the first low singing hum of the peeler, silence feel over the immediate area surrounding them. The zuukers curled into tight little balls that began to grow tough silvery coats to ward off the hum of the peeler. Emmeline breathed a sigh of relief. The immediate danger was warded off. Now to see to Shade’s welfare.

She knelt next to him and turned him over on his belly so she could see the extent of the damage. It was much worse than she feared. The welts extended all up and down his back, twining deep in the ridges of his phallax. Not even the sacred chocolate could heal such damage. There was only one solution. She would have to use the peeler.

And if she did, there was no hope of meeting the terms of the prophesy. The moments ticked past as she debated, torn between the deeply ingrained destiny or saving the man she finally admitted that she loved. What to do?

For tomorrow's episode, check


  1. He could always claim to be walking "in memory of". Missing the together moments and the night air. Reason enough for me.

    Before kids, we had a miniature pincher which, while miniature, was not related to the bigger dogs. He had the same rust and black coloring though, and his name was "Psych" as in: "I'm a big dog. I'm a big dog. Psych!" We took him for walks but after he kept eating rabbit pebbles and the subsequent vet visits, we found other digs to walk in. Ahhh, the memories.

  2. She sleeps behind my chair while I'm writing, waits in the hall when I go to the bathroom, follows me everywhere. It will be hard for a while when she's gone. But each day I can see that she's a little "less". Not a lot. Just a bit. Sleeps more. But she's still alert and loves to go outside. So that's what we do. Go sit on the balcony and watch the squirrels. She barks at the other dogs and acts fierce from the safety of the balcony. I take pictures. And store up memories.

  3. We have a similar thing to dumpster shopping. Every 6 months the city council lets people dump stuff on the sidewalk and they come along to get rid of, TVs, computers etc. Everyone slowly cruises by in their cars to check stuff out and there are a lot of accidents

  4. Oh, yeah, when we lived in upstate New York we had "big trash" weeks in the spring and fall. Our last move fortunately fell during the spring week. We put everything out there that we couldn't take with us. Sometimes the stuff disappeared before we got the door shut. It was amazing!

  5. Annie, so sorry for your dog. I don't have pets anymore. Mitzy, a black and white 4 years old cat was given away when my daughter developed asthma. The pure-bred 2 years old German shepherd we raised after three breaks-in on our house was adopted by the local police after he bit 4 people who just looked at my kids in a way he didn't like. And my dear Wendy a rusty cat who kept me company when the kids left for college was adopted by a family with 4 toddlers when we move to a no-pet building in FL. See I don't do well with animals. Too much love and too many allergies.


  6. This one is for Emmeline: between using sacred chocolate or a peeler there must be a decent middle. I shiver just thinking of the peeler on his what-did-you-call it? Phallax? May completely achieve the poor guy. Now sacred chocolate may send him in such ecstasy he might not want to wake up. It also depends on the application method. I can imagine a couple, but I’m sure Kelly, (is she next?) can come up with the right one.

    Mona (taking a break from an all-day hospital visit to her Mom)

  7. Mona, I hope your mom is better quick. Those all day visits at the hospital are as hard on the visitor as the patient! Give her our best wishes.