On the dog-blog side of things, my two US expat dogs, Lizzy and Bandit appear normal and healthy. The question at hand is, what are their thoughts? Are they ok with the Euro-version doggie lifestyle? Lizzy is now officially older than Methuselah, yet still retains the sprightly energy of youth (when her arthritis isn’t acting up). Her movements are much more restricted over here.
Lizzy used to free-roam the neighborhood back in the US. Does she truly appreciate the ability to sit under our table at an upscale restaurant over here more than she misses her unbridled “gin & juice” gangsta-bitch lifestyle back home?
The mail carrier in our old neighborhood, a diminutive yet stout woman, seemed an unlikely candidate to curry favor for roaming dogs, yet even she was running tandem with Lizzie on her morning delivery route for a couple years back in the late 90’s. Lizzy had a lot of friends in the neighborhood (way more than me!) because her gentle demeanor belied an uncanny discrimination between friend and foe.
One memorable example was her out of character response of literally backing down a carload of guys who had just pulled into the driveway of a neighbor lady. My attempted apologies upon retrieving Lizzy from the scene of her ‘crime’ were quickly overwhelmed with expressions of appreciation and relief by the lady. Lizzy was actually interceding on the neighbor’s behalf against a group of people the lady didn’t want to see!! She THANKED me for letting Lizzy roam the streets.
Lizzy is/was so good with kids that another neighbor used to bring their two year old daughter outside just to visit with Lizzie on her daily rounds. I found out much later that Lizzy was so special in their lives that they often let her inside the house to visit.
My favorite Lizzy ‘protection’ story? One night, a philandering buddy of mine is at my house during our weekly video-golf tournaments. You know THIS guy. He keeps two cell phones so he won’t get caught by his telephone history log. We’re constantly waiting on him when it’s his turn to play because he’s always focused on his phone like a hungry hawk on a field mouse, tap tap tapping away sextmessage after sextmessage. So frequent were the delays caused by his enthusiastic phoned-based finger banging that I coined the phrase “Tappy Doo Bullshit” in reference to it. But I digress. Halfway through the weekly tournament, Lizzy goes into full alert mode at the front door. We all look out the window but there’s nothing there. Back to the golf. Lizzy won’t relent. We look out the window again…nothing.
At this point, philandering dude says “hold on a minute” and gets up from his tappy doo bullshit. He steps onto the front porch outside my house where he spots his wife’s car sitting at the bottom of the hill, a good ten houses down the street from mine. She is stalking him to catch him cheating, and he waves at her! She drives up the street and I invite her to come inside, since she’s already in the neighborhood….lol. Sensing her concern that we might have “a ‘hoe’ hidden somewhere up in this crib” she is offered the full house and garden tour. Witnessing my totally banal lifestyle firsthand must have harshed the mellow of her relief in the lack of hooker, as she hung around just long enough not to appear rude, and then excused herself and left. Philandering buddy was so overwhelmingly impressed that Lizzy could sniff out trouble (his wife at the bottom of the hill-lol) that he dam near adopted Lizzy as his own.
It’s too bad Lizzy couldn’t protect the glove compartment of his car, because that’s where he ‘hid’ his “super secret double-life cell phone”. That would be the very same phone his wife retrieved from said vehicle glove-box while he was in the shower at home a few days later. Fast Forward to the scene of philandering dude’s possessions being flung out the window of his recently purchased home (on a golf course no less) by angry wife. He’s single now. We still keep in touch. I tried to tell him that “Teeny Bopper Bullshit” (another term I coined…1979) wasn’t worth it. Whocouldanode that painting the toenails of your teeny bop girlfriend might seem a tad boring to a guy over forty when the sex is done? Cue Steely Dan…Hey Nineteen….”she don’t remember the Queen of Soul”
FWIW, then as now, I strongly advise against cheating on your spouse. Ferchrissakes, is it stretching the bounds of human decency to just get permission beforehand?