Watching Harley try and catch a tiny tennis ball with her paws would be like me trying to catch one with my elbows. She's like an overly excited miniature Kristin Wiig in a Saturday Night Live skit clapping little retarded hands together all by herself. It's a circus of hilarious attempts at dominating a squeaky Kong toy world cup style. We tossed it around and got rowdy in the rain today. She may or may not be covered with the black drippy rain water that gets stuck and stagnant in little pools in our front courtyard. But ill be damned if she isn't smiling from ear to sloppy-soaked ear. She looks slightly "touched" and a little cross eyed on this particular afternoon. When Harls is wet she looks like a drowned rat that just crawled out of a garbage disposal. She could easily be mistaken for a cast member in Les Miserable' dying in the dirty streets of Paris singing "On My Bone." She may look like a homeless piece of garbage but boy she couldn't be happier than a pig in shit or me on Broadway! If I'm going to be busy that day I try and shake things up for her for about 15 or 20 minutes before I head out to conquer New York. This dreamy little bitch is a juicy reminder of how simple things are supposed to be. Every day is fresh with the possibility of something new and exciting happening. Dogs are never jaded companions unless they are really old, abused, or neglected. But then again.....aren't we all?
It's so strange how loud the silence can be when my dog is away. Not that she ever makes any noise or barks, but the stillness is epic and leaves me one of those people that misses the warmth that a sweet pooch brings. She's like a little hot water bottle ever present as she presses into my side on the couch or while I'm sleeping. She burrows her way forcefully under my comforter like a little groundhog where she'll stay for the rest of the night. She never wakes me to go out and, in fact, sleeps longer than I do. How did I get so lucky?
When Harley is on a lesbian play date with her friend Mable for the day I'm reminded how unknowingly empty my life was before I stumbled into that cunty Pocket Puppy store in Chicago where our love affair first began. It's so second nature for me to have her under foot that I forget that she's always right there....accessible and instant love. But when she's not I miss the sound of little Peggy Sawyer's nails on the hard wood floor, not even letting me leave the room to walk to the bathroom or go downstairs for a minute unescorted. Her absence, upon returning from her yellow stained cone-sniffing play date, makes me notice for the first time that I'm never alone. When you have a faithful companion tag along side you everywhere you go (every day) it becomes the norm to not even realize how much you need that furry friendship. It reminds me of what life was like before cell phones or the world wide web! I don't know how I ever got along without Google search engines or spell check. In the late nineties I was breaking dollars bills in the corner bodega to use dirty homeless pay phones in new York and unsuccessfully flipping through outdated encyclopedias to get answers. I see why folks immediately replace an animal when they pass on bc the silence is deafening and in your face and leaves a gaping hole in the grey areas of your day. Now, having had one, I know that I'll probably always have a dog in my life. My heart is too full to ever go back to quiet.
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