Talking Dogs

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“Dammit,” he exclaimed slapping his right hand on the battered, oak kitchen table-slash-work desk, stacked high with neglected mail offering coupons for oil and lube jobs, new homes for $500 down, credit card receipts (which all now slid with a slight seismic shift into smaller piles for even Everest is diminishing over Time), a to-do list written on the back of a religious leaflet in the guise of a check drawn on THE BANK OF ETERNAL LIFE (RESOURCES UNLIMITED) Pay To The Order Of “WHOSEVER BELIEVETH” (John 3:16)  $ Rom. 6:23 THE SUM OF Eternal Life By Jesus Christ, a full pepper shaker and a nearly-empty salt shaker which now both wobbled like bowling pins, the spare in an interminible yet precarious limbo, the veneer scarred with syrup stains and indelible teardrop-shaped sharpie tattoos like the mug a long forgotten convict who always manages to fuck-up right before parole and has finally surrendered to that void of recidivism we all eventually inhabit slowly crowding one another out from the under the beneficent umbrella of the military-industrial complex which mushrooms in the rain yet never quite protects all of us i.e. there always seems to be a few weak who get nudged out to the margins in this One Nation, Under Gawd Invincible with Liberty, “…in my next life I’m coming back as a Professor of Japanese Literature!”

 

The thunderous thud startled them both at their kibble troughs.

Jesus, here we go again, said Addie.

Nutmeg burped, I liked him better when was drinking.

He’s a dry drunk.

Hi my name’s Addie…Hi Addie…

Very funny. Yeah. Not drinking isn’t sober. Trust me. Would you rather do something well that you didn’t enjoy or keep trying to find that skill but muddle through like our buddy here?

We have a choice? I’d rather he take us out. I gotta pee like a racehorse.

Addie sneezed. Contemptuously. Nutmeg knew.

Why does it always come around to stuff like this with you?

You never want to play or scrap. I take your chewy toy from right under your snout and you just watch me. Trust me. I do my best to engage.

I like the new food. Do you?

You ask me that every day!

Yeah, well maybe sometimes its best to take things day by day, you know?

Hey, I was with the program. Not sure it transfers, though…just the same..

You get all philosophical but frankly sometimes you crawl up your own ass.

I know…its just a nice day outside I can smell it.

That was me, said Nutmeg sheepishly, I gorged on onion grass last night.

Addie went low trying to bite Nutmeg’s hind leg.

Oh Jesus pick a side and stay on it Nutmeg said shaking free.

Maybe that’s my approach? Its called inclusion. Everything matters to some degree.

Wasn’t that a John Cougar album?

Here we go…

Wait, what?

Addie started stamping her paws and wagging her tail. Nutmeg heard the leashes rattle. Finally, she exclaimed, I can almost taste it.

 

“You want to go out?” He asked.

Is a pig’s ass pork? replied Addie, Jesus Christ is life one big rhetorical question?

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