Chester, Pennsylvania**:
Correctional Facility located in Chester, Pennsylvania**:
"..when you bend down to give Lulu a pet she enthusiastically mashes her Timothy Bradley forehead into your palm..."**
"...she gets all the pent-up loving I'd give to my dog Spiffy if she were with me in NY."
So its the end of the weekend, but I’ve yet to go out and drink since I really need this antibiotic I’ve been taking to work on my ears. I’m scheduled to fly out to Denver on Tuesday and I’ve heard painful stories ‘bout what happens if you fly with an ear infection. So this weekend I’ve just stayed home, on intermission from the world.
Actually, this weekend I’ve had to work a lot. Get all my files current so that my diary’s clear for the week I’ll be gone. That means all my camera pics have to be downloaded and labeled; all my time has to be data-entered; all my field-work has to be dictated; all my reports that have come back from dictation need to be reviewed--then emailed to my manager; and finally all the enclosures and hard-copy documents I’ve gathered have to be mailed to the office.
Its a lot of moronic shit to do as I catch-up on last minute field-work; especially when you’re as congested and zoned-out as I’ve been.
To top it off, this past Friday I had an investigation in a shit-hole called Chester, Pennsylvania. Course my territory’s supposed to be Manhattan and the Boroughs, but what’s my boss care about a handshake agreement between men?!
Anyway, Chester, Pennsylvania is a three hour drive from Brooklyn, which meant six hours round-trip. And I’ve had severe vertigo for the last two weeks.
Luckily my man Vintage offered to ride with me. He used to be a long-haul trucker and loves a good roadtrip. So I picked-up him and his dog Lulu and we drove to Chester, Pennsylvania.
Vintage is real good company. He’s attentive to the roadway and patient; whereas a lot of times I’ll drift between lanes in distracted thought. Or hit the gas when I get excited over a point of conversation.
But Vintage was always right there. Lodo. Lodo!
I’m on it. ...Thanks Vintage.
I have to be careful around Vintage’s dog Lulu (not to be confused with Ms. Lulu, star of previous posts) 'cause she really winds me up. Lulu’s only about 20 pounds, but its all muscle; in condensed Bulldog physicality. When you bend down to give Lulu a pet she enthusiastically moshes her flat, Timothy Bradley forehead into your palm; and when another dog comes over to give her a sniff Lulu inevitably attempts a head-butt. All in good fun and everybody loves it.
When I start to pet Lulu, its hard for me to stop. She gets all the pent-up loving I’d give to my dog Spiffy if she were here in NY. But unlike Spiffy, Lulu loves a hard pet. My problem is what starts as a nice stroke builds into something else. I begin to massage and dig my fingers harder and harder into Lulu’s back muscles until she reacts with a grunt; then I’ll slap at her sides to induce her to play before I scoop her in my arms and squeeze her against my chest in an Abominable Snowman bear-hug; mashing my forehead into hers as I grit my teeth and repeat baby-talk nonsense: Who's the tough girl? Yeah, you're tough. You are tough. Lets play rough. C’mon toughie, lets be tough. Who’s cute toughie? You’re cute toughie! Yes you are. Good cute toughie! Now I'm the cute toughie. No you're the cute toughie. Now I'm the cute toughie. No you're the cute toughie. Who's the cute toughie? No you're the cute...
After awhile even the ever-patient Vintage (who's about as easy-going as they get) can’t take it,
“Hey Lodo. You think you can give it a rest already? She’s a ten year old dog and you’re beatin’ the crap out of her.”
Sorry Vintage. ...Lulu just gets me worked up.
* NOTE: Due to certain time and space constraints, I'm gonna have to split this post into a second part.
** NOTE: Photos with the (2) asteriks were not taken by Lodo Grdzak and are subject to copyrights. Abominable snowman created by Chuck Jones and I'm quite sure is copyrighted.
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