Let’s take two dogs…we’ll name them Mary Jane and Little P. Now we’ll say that Mary is a Blue Heeler and Little P is a Golden Retriever. Good. Now that we’ve got their personalities in check, lets move on to their backgrounds.
Mary Jane was found on the streets of Lubbock, TX and was given to three best friends. She was raised in a secluded three bedroom duplex and her environment was that of an Amsterdam Coffee House. There were people coming in and out of that house at all hours of the day with guitars, voices, and weed. Picture a tiny commune of musicians and a little Mary Jane.
Little P grew up on a Franch about 20 miles outside of Abilene, TX and was given to a young woman named Margaret by some guy at a gas station. P is a little under two years younger than Mary, yet Mary is David next to his Goliath. Now, when I label P Goliath, you have every right to assume two things: 1) that he is a horse of a dog and 2) he’s clumsy as fuck. Hell, I’ve seen drunkards stumble with more grace than that yellow dog. But God bless him though, he’s the nicest mother fucker you’ll ever wanna meet.
I wouldn’t say that Mary and P clicked instantly. No I wouldn’t say that at all. But over a few months of beatings by the hand of the queen bitch Mary Jane, the two were inseparable. They would spend hours upon hours traipsing all over the Franch while they grew like brother and sister in a “not from the same womb” sort of way. Pretty soon the bored humans that inhabited this Franch; Andy, Charlie, Ryan, Margaret and Estibule, had hours of fun filled entertainment while Little P collected scars. Back and forth all day long the dogs would flop and turn and growl and bite their way into love. Kind of reminds you of you doesn’t it?
I can’t describe what it looks like when you’re sitting there on the floor watching these two dogs in action. The most you could say would be “Thank God”. Thank God for the purity of it all, like you’re watching a sun rise or your lover getting dressed. It’s the simple things that we take for granted…the ca-ca jokes, the ice cream, the movies…that we’ll take with us to the grave. Not the flops and turns and growls and bites of life. It’s the simple things that make everything fit together like a puzzle. Without them, you’d be staring at table. And what in God’s name is good about a table?