My Dog Is No Rock Star

So I realize my last post may have seemed a bit harsh. Harsh to Mr. Dooley's dog I mean. And since the last thing I want to do is give his dog a negative body image (in case Mr. Dooley's dog reads my blog), I should probably talk about how my dog is no rock star either. Don't get me wrong, though (I'm talking to you Mr. Dooley's dog), I still thing you're a fat sausage of a dog.

My Dog is No Rock Star.
She's a toy poodle and rather ungroomed.
We don't like her to be done up like a poodle.
If there were such things as dog-street-urchins.
She would be a dog-street-urchin.
She broke both her legs as a puppy.
So now she's got a plate in one of them.
And when she sits or stands still
You can see she's a bit pigeon-toed.
She's highly sensitive.
She always has to be in someone's lap.
She cries if she's not in someone's lap.
She's got a dark coat, fluffy lamb-like coat
So she doesn't photograph well.
Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between her ass and her face.
She could be mistaken for a dust-bunny.
My Dog is No Rock Star.
Mostly because she can't sing,
"Walk this Way."

This is my dog:





This is not my dog:

Beware The Gypsy Scams!!

So every neighborhood has its resident crazies. Mine is no different. As with most resident crazies, our resident crazy is a little old man. For privacy purposes with will call him Mr. Dooley. Mr. Dooley always wears big aviator sunglasses that are bigger than his entire head. He wears a cap literally on top of his head. (On a side note: I don't understand why old people refuse to pull their cap on all the way. My grandpa is the same way. He only pulls it on halfway or so it makes is head look oblong. I don't get it. Pull your hat on! Jeez, old people just don't understand fashion. Are you hiding something under those hats?)

ANYWAY.

Also Mr. Dooley drives a big white boat-of-a-car Cadillac. (Why do old people love Cadillacs?)

So Mr. Dooley is one of those old people with way too much time on his hands. He walks his sausage of a dog (really it's the fattest small dog I've ever seen) at least three to four times a day. I think the dog is a cocker spaniel but it looks like he's got a pot-bellied pig on a leash. I think he walks his dog so much to keep watch over the neighborhood. He's a retired (well, forced into retirement) public works official who was never married. He's got train sets in his basement. On garbage days he waits for the trucks to come by and, no joke, two minutes after they leave he goes down the block dragging everyone's trash bins up their driveway to their yards. I don't believe his intentions are neighborly. I believe he wants to snoop in people backyards. One day my day caught him peering in our back window, teasing our hypersensitive dog (making faces, knocking on the window, ect) after he brought our cans to our yard. Our dog was going absolutely nuts. She was really upset and he's out there laughing. He's crazy. Yesterday was garbage day and my Dad sent my brother outside as soon as the trucks went by to intercept our cans before Mr. Dooley could get to them. Mr. Dooley was already outside ready to grab them. When my brother went out there, he cornered him to warn him and my family about alleged "gypsy scams" going on in our quite middle-class suburban neighborhood. Yes, he really used the words "gypsy scams."

Sometimes I feel really bad for Mr. Dooley. I think he's probably a really lonely dude with not much to do besides patrol the neighborhood and bring in people's garbage cans. I feel bad his only friend is his over-fed dog who, even with three walks a day, can't seem to keep a trim figure. I feel bad when I picture him sitting alone in his basement, with a train conductor's cap pulled only halfway on his head, playing with his train sets.

But everything changed though that day my Dad caught him peering in our window. I don't care if you're old, I don't care if you're crazy. You shouldn't be looking into other people's windows. And teasing our dog no less. If we did that at his back window to his dog he'd have us arrested for trespassing.

As an old man, we as the neighborhood should be brining in his garbage cans for him. But when my Dad tried to that he ran out of his house saying "No, No! That's ok. I got it!" And he took the cans from my Dad.

He's old.
He's got time on his hands.
He's lonely.
His dog is fat.

I get it. Really, I do. But stay out of our business! Namely, our back window.

If you want to warn us about "gypsy scams" that's ok. It's your job as an old person to get worked up about silly things and to use out-dated words like "gypsy." It provides then non-old community with a good amount of entertainment number one. But it also reminds us that we are going to be old one day and warning our younger generations about a great big SPAM virus infiltrating computers everywhere and to take heed and be extra careful when opening e-mail. To which the younger generation will smile and nod and say they'll be careful then laugh later to themselves and say, "I can't believe she just used the word SPAM! And E-Mail! What is this 2010?"

Some people fear getting old. I on the other had, do not. I see it as the time in my life when I get to fully descend into my own madness. Muhahahhahahaha!!

Beware the SPAM scams!!