Min, the completely insane Neapolitan Mastiff who belongs to E’s brother, got into the garbage today, and spread it across three rooms, somehow grinding barbecue sauce into the dining room floor. Then she mourned the lack of anyone being there to let her out to go into the yard to relieve herself like a lady by pooping in the foyer and pooping in the kitchen, and then she celebrated by taking a nap in the middle of the carnage. I like having adopted dogs!  That was supposed to be sarcasm, but as it turns out, I really do like the adoption part. It’s like I’m a grandma! I did not hear about the mess until it was cleaned up and Min was bouncing around like she had never heard of garbage, or pooping, or pooping garbage. We love Min very much, but she is a very bad girl. She says What? Me? Hi! Shiny! You going to eat that? GIVE. WANT. Shiny!

Porter, who is a very good boy, was very depressed on Sunday. Seriously. He sighed a lot, and moped around, and went into his room and locked the door and was blasting Dashboard Confessional and when I knocked on the door and said Porter honey, are you okay? he shouted You’re not my real mom! and cranked up the volume. So that was difficult. Last night, he whined. What, Porter? Do you want to go out? Whine. Did you eat? Here’s food! Whine. Drink from the faucet? Whine, whine, sigh. Scratchings? Okay, you like that! Except no! It’s not good enough! What do you want from me, dog? I do not speak your language! And then Min was sad and I was confused and sad, too.

The dogs are nuts, I said to E. I don’t know what to do for them. I
don’t know what they want! We’re going to take them, he said. I said, For a
walk, you mean?  And that was a mistake, because both their heads came
up, and suddenly, it was a full-blown, full scale riot, because oh, how
they know that word, and oh, how they love it with all their hearts.
They burst from a sitting, whining position to a full-on barking,
rampaging through the house series of positions. Min came racing at me,
knocked into my knees and would have sent me flying if I hadn’t doubled
over in pain and grabbed at her to keep me upright.

You said it, and when you say it you have to do it and
that’s the rule and it’s a good rule and you said it so let’s go let’s
go let’s go go go hello let’s go it’s the rule.Sweatshirt, coat, hat,
hands deep in pockets, out the door and down to the park that’s
deserted, at night. It sits right at the foot of the mountains, and
they blocked out the sky.  It felt like you could stop for a moment and
lean back and rest against them, smoke a cigarette and look up at the
sky and relax with their heat and hugeness propping you up.  

The dogs exploded onto the field and ran widening circles around us. If
there was corn, it would have looked as if we were visited by aliens.
They are good dogs, and generally quiet dogs, giants who think they are lap
dogs, sweet. We let them go, and their joy was as palpable as the
mountains behind us. It’s what they needed. That’s what they needed, I
said to E. We need to do this more often, he said, as the dogs looped
around, buzzed by us, raced and flipped and charged each under the park
lights and through the trees.

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