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| thesopranos, omaggi, sal lopez, leguizamo, dialogue, iraqi, pamie, wedding, oneeight seven, themarshall mathers lp, magazines, funny, mp3 discoteche, poem, ian holm, audio, | I'm surprised I didn't lose a digit. My good folks bought (and named, despite my urgent requests that he be named "Jet") Andy. And, as a single child, Andy was my fairly constant companion for years and years. Not assyrian that there weren't growing pains. When he was a mere pup--with ominously gigantic feet--he assyrian started snuffling around a jigsaw puzzle I was failing to work on. I whacked him on the nose. "What assyrian the hell was that for?" my dad demanded. "He was sniffing my stuff!" I explained. He stared at me like I was a foreign microbe invading the family body. "Jesus, don't be an asshole. He's just a puppy." Andy grew. Christ, did he grow. It turned out that he was an ubermutt: he had elements of collie (coloring), German shepherd (muzzle), St. Bernard (unbelievable size; I think he weighed in at one point around 140), and malamute (upcurved tail). In fact, I used to ride on his back. |
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| Dogs are just that way: they're the best. Mine was named Andy. magazines I think I was in second grade when we got him; we were in Idaho, and we went to some redneck domicile where the guy had like fifteen damn pups all running around madly in a pen, and I peered excitedly through the chainlink: We were getting a dog! It was impossible for magazines me to choose; the mutts (and they were total mutts) were all so very magazines adorable, these unremarkable greyish muttpups all lunging around theatrically, screaming with every cell, "Curse this metal barrier! I want to play with the tiny pink person!" My parents, as parents should be, were much more clear-eyed. They spotted the weirdo of the group, who occasionally peered out worriedly from the much-chewed doghouse in the pen. That was Andy (though he had yet to be named): forever cautious, forever peering. I barely registered him. Fuck the weenie dog! I've got capering masses of gray doglets who are killing themselves to lick my beknighted fingers! |
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