LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
Gay 'n Gray |
by John Siegfried |
For all the dogs in Rehoboth Beach and for those who love them. Whenever I hear Jack or Bob, the two guys I live with, say, "I wish I had a dog's life," it's enough to make me want to head to the closest fire hydrant and take a you know what. They think that a dog living with two queens has an easy life, but let me tell you, it isn't. I've been with them for eight years now, ever since they picked me up at the pound as a puppy. The sign on my cage listed me as a border collie and when I was a puppy I was really cute. I had big feet and floppy ears and curly black hair with some white spots. I remember one of them saying, as he looked into my pen, "He doesn't look like a border collie." But the veterinarian in charge explained that my mother was a pure bred collie and my father was a boarder, maybe a spaniel, and that's why I looked the way I did. I must have done a good job of looking pitiful because, they took me home with them. They live in a fancy house with lots of nice furniture and a big yard, but as soon as I set foot in the place the scolding and the spanking began. They didn't want me to chew on their shoes. They didn't want me pee on the carpet. They were really persnickety but I gradually learned how to live with them. They named me Butch. I think they were trying to be funny. But when they weren't yelling at me they were yelling at each other. "You forgot to put the toilet lid down. Butch will drink from the bowl and get sick." Then Jack would respond, "Fine, I'll leave the lid down and let my pee splash all over. See how you'll like that." Bob's retort was, "From the smell of this place I thought that's what you were doing." I suppose that if I lived with Jacqueline and Bob they might have had a childa kind of genetic cement to keep the two of them together. But, for Jack and Bob, they had me, a dog, and it was clear from the start that part of my job was to help keep the two of them together. When I finally was old enough and learned where to pee and what to chew on with impunity, they began to groom me for the role of family therapist, or at least the family listener. The two of them would get angry and not speak to each other, so they'd speak through me. "Now Butch," Jack would say, "tell Bobby what an asshole he's being. The party we're going to is called a costume party so he should wear his lavender gown and his black patent leather heels. A tee shirt and jeans just won't do." "Well, Butch," Bobby would reply, "you can tell Jack that, thanks to my own good cooking, I've put on a few pounds and the lavender no longer fits. The only way I'll even consider going is if he pays for a new frock." And so it would go until the day they finally left for this glorious affair. Bobby was in a red sequin gown with a white lace shawl and wore red high heel pumps to match. He also carried a long cigarette holder that was supposed to make him look like Tallulah Bankhead, but with the rear spread he was hiding he came out more like Tallulah Butthead. Jack was pretty good about it, however, and told Bobby he looked absolutely lovely. That just proves that beauty really is in the eye of the beholder, or that Jack was just plain lying. I get kind of embarrassed when they take me for a walk. We usually head for the park at the end of our street and all the way I have to walk with this leash around my neck, as if I'd run away or something. When I do get a chance to run a bit on my own at the park I see all these fancy pedigreed dogs that are very prim and trim. They all look down their nose at me and some of them have very long noses, too. They say I'm a mutt and when I tell them I'm a border collie they just laugh. There's one other spotted dog I often play with in the park and she's pretty nice to me. She doesn't want the other dogs to know, but she's very wealthy. Her owner is some kind of a nut job who thought he was dying and had his lawyer draw up a will leaving all his wealth to, "...my loyal companion, my one true friend who stays beside me through thick and through thin, my dog Spot." Then he told the lawyer to find a spotted dog for him and my friend just happened to be walking down the street when this lawyer guy hands her a juicy bone and grabs her. She's been living in this mansion ever since but the old guy hasn't died yet so she's sort of a lady in waiting. Sometimes we fantasize about what we'll do when she gets rich. She wants a diamond choker to wear instead of her leather collar and my dream is to visit a plastic surgeon and get transformed into an Afghan Hound, all tall and sleek and snotty looking. Then I'll have the longest nose in the park. Since we've never really traveled very much, my friend and I want to take off on a cross-country jaunt with me driving the Jag and Jack and Bob lying on a blanket squished between the back seat and the trunk. Each night we'll stop at a fancy motel and we'll crawl into bed between the clean sheets while those two crawl around on the floor sniffing dirty carpets and waiting to be led outside to pee. Maybe, if they know what a dog's life is really like, I'll get some respect. John Siegfried, a retired associaction executive, lives in Ft. Lauderdale and occasionally makes it back to Rehoboth for a visit. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 13, No. 12, August 22, 2003 |