I’ve written a few times here about the bloodlust that the barking Beelzebub with whom I share a house has acquired. I’m sure that my reader in the Boise area will attest to her vicious brutality, if evidenced only by my scarred flesh and the bloodstains on my floors (she cunningly acts all lovey-dovey when anyone besides me is actually present – she’s a sly one, this canine C'thulu). I can only hope that my sub-Saharan readers have some sense of her savagery, though obviously the full extent of her demonic demeanor can truly be known only by me.
To this point, I’ve really only described the physical aspects of her aggression. While this alone is certainly enough to cause me to live in constant fear, it’s far from the complete story. Allow me to relate an example of her darker side, and her particular brand of psychological warfare.
Winter is on the wane here in the lowlands of western Idaho, and though we still generally have cold, crisp days, we’ve already had beers sitting on the porch of the pub wearing shorts (my apologies to those patrons not wearing sunglasses … my legs are a bit … well, caucasian, let’s say). Those days have been the exception, however, and we’re not quite to the point where birds are singing and flowers are blooming.
Except for this plucky fella.
Above: No, I still haven’t read the manual to learn how to override the auto-focus thingy on my new camera.
We had a little snow fall on Friday night, and I walked out Saturday morning in my normal Saturday morning depression, only to find this little guy basically flipping off the elements. He was not, by god, going to let a little snow get in the way of him doing what he damn well pleased. I immediately felt uplifted, and as I often perceive the world in terms of really bad metaphors for my own life, I identified with it, and pledged to myself to not let adversity get me down, to shake off the snows of the winter (still in metaphor mode here), and to burst through and live life to the fullest, to see new opportunity where before I saw only gloom, and to start anew!
That’s where the dog comes in. Sensing my mood swing, she quickly acted to squelch my new-found hope, and with one mighty paw, showed just how cruel she really can be:
Above: Broken stem for plucky flower, broken dreams for The Dead Acorn. My god, those dead eyes ... that horrific grin ...
And that, my friends, is the reality of my existence - I live with a torturous beast hellbent on extinguishing every last ember of hope that my soul still holds.
[UPDATE]: Holy crap! He bloomed anyway! This flower is my goddamned HERO!
Above: I can’t believe I was able to take this shot, what with my eyes filled with tears of joy and admiration and all.
[UPDATE x 2]: When I say things like “I swear, that fucking dog spins a web in which to ensnare me,” I’m not speaking figuratively.
Above: Thank god she doesn’t have opposable thumbs.
7 months ago