I wonder if they're gonna change it.

As anyone who has ever applied to adopt a dog from rescue knows, the application is pretty dang thorough. I had to fill out an EIGHT page application that had harder questions than the freaking SAT. Then I had to gather the following: Copy of my lease, the names of all my sex partners for the past three years, addendum to lease that says that I can have two dogs, my permanent record from school, credit report, note from my mom, Psych evaluation notes, my C.A.T. test scores, printout of all the songs on my iPod, fingerprints, certified letter from Jessie Jackson, a letter from my Rabbi, three references that do not live with me, urine sample, letters from four dogs that don't live with me, copy of Lassie's autograph, one strand of hair, an original ballad that I composed, and the hat of one of the Monks of New Skete. And Lola's vet records for the past five years.

So I called the vet to get them to copy the eight million pages (I was a little overzealous when she was small) and Irene, who has known Lola all her life, suddenly can't find me.

Great. Now the rescue people are gonna think I'm a pirate who is just here to gather rescue Pugs and Bulldogs to ship them off to some small third-world country to make Nikes.

So she looks and looks and asks if I was possibly under Robot's name? Nope. And no, I do not have the kitty anymore, I found him a good home.

"Derek? Payne?" Irene asked. "Do you know a Derek Payne?"

Well that would be the good home I found him. Ah! They brought Wayne to the vet and got his records transferred. YAY! I did find him a good home! And YAY! I'm no pirate! Lola's records just got moved to Derek's file by mistake! And –

"I'm sorry?" I said, "The kitten's name is Wayne Payne?"

That kitten. He's not even here, and he's still making me laugh.

Not MY young lady!

Lola is sleeping happily on her bed, with my foot on her back. I can tell she's having a dog dream by the jerking and chortling and closed-mouth barking she's doing. Then the jerking gets rhythmic. And mostly located in her hindquarters ...

ARE YOU HAVING A FREAKING SEX DREAM? HERE? IN FRONT OF ME? ON A SUNDAY?

Dog, I don't care if you are thirty-five years old! I'm thirty-three and I don't even hold hands in front of my mother. Is it not enough that you have lifted your leg to pee several times recently instead of squatting like the debutante that I like to pretend you are? That's it. You're wearing your t-shirt to daycare, young lady.

At least it covers up, like, eight of her boobs.

Will you just go outside and catch another stray cat?

Its not like I have much to do out here, kids.

I keep the squirrels in line. Make sure the goose crap still tastes, "Canadian". Bark at countless hoboes at 3am.
Bark at the kids playing dice since they wont let me in on a set. Wait for the bra circulars from Sears to make it into the mail slot at 2pm and stash them away before Da-dee catches me.

Sometimes I go downstairs to visit Uncle Zach, but he is working with power tools and he makes me sit and stay for twenty minutes, which is, like and hour and a half in my time.

I have to nap now, cant talk, must grow.

So where was I , oh yeah the two brothers laugh at me when I have to, "do math problems in front of the class on the chalkboard". You know what Im talking about? That thing that happens when you never expect it to— right in front of everybody. Yeah well, I bet nobody ever called you "Tijuana Dick" before.
I cant help that when the breeze is just right and I sit down to hang out with the guys that my special bits just have to get a little air. Yeah whatever guys. I dont even know what to do with this thing except occasionaly chew on it right before I give you a lick on your arm or hand.

Anyways, Wayne wouldn't have called me "T-D". He would have said, "hey man, just keep on keeping on." And then clawed me right between the eyes. That guy had class.

"Popeye" Or: I yam what I yam

If you feed your dog spinach, and you live in cellar-like conditions rivaled only by that flop-flat you rented in college with 5 other guys— be sure to watch your dog to see if he eats it before simply cramming another bushel's -worth of nature's goodness right back into his mouth a consecutive time.

Good intentions. Look at all the leafy greens he wants to eat. OR, look at all the spinach Ryder is chewing with mucho gusto, then spraying it on the floor like a mulching mower only to gallop back happliy to my hand for more.

Luckilly for me I just swept dust and plaster rubble over it, like sawdust over tobacco chaw.
Boys night at the hacienda. Yes, I do wipe my hands on the puppy's coat.

B

ryder , saturday night

So the boy has been yodeling lately, unbelievably glancing at me when im shaving, now when I am working on the computer at home. Where's Wayne? Where's Lola? Where is my daycare? See since he was a pup he had West and Lola around, and even Jay made a few cameos now and then. Wayne got the daunting task of serving as puppy monitor after Lola and West were gone. Wayne really just wanted to eat and catch the occasional flys buzzing through the house.
Ryder persisted though and by weeks end, Wayne was one of the boys— like it or not.

With the kitten now happily placed into a new home, Ryder has been suspicious of the lack of cat poop smells, and Wayne himself. It seems Da-dee is the only winding-key around the house, and Ryder needs plenty of it.

Yelp! Time to play. No, I mean play n all fours, with your hooded sweatshirt on over your head. Yup like that Da-dee! Now watch me parade my bone around the room. See how I hold it up high in my mouth? It is for meeee. Except , no—yes, wait. No. Yes . see you chase me Da-deee. Yes I have the bone. No wait, okay yes I still have it. Shouldnt I bark a few more times when you sit back down and start to work? How bout we go to the park and I watch squirrels and canadian geese. or the 14 year old kids sell cocaine. yay!
Okay, right now! Yay! You are the best Da-deee ever.

Food, more foood. Ryder sleeps at my feet two hours. rinse.repeat play scenario except repeat in back yard this time.

Look at my pile of toys I run around. Look Da-deee! Look its Uncle Zach to chase me too. Now, yes I want some water from the garden hose. Nope from the algae-filled puddle over here instead. Now let me lick you.

Puppies arent such hard work, its the time it takes to give them the quality entertainment they deserve. Its not extended basic cable tv either. If people see me more and more reppin' my block with my dog, wearing my blue hoodie— I'm going to have to start my own crew over here in Garfield Park.

Robot

Early fall posing

Lola's de-stanking continues.

Photo 176.jpg
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Today the dogs went on a Wicker Park romp - stores, sidewalks and the park. Know how you know Lola's having a good time? Drool on the nose and flowers in her collar. For a dog, it doesn't get better than that.

Not bad for a kitten in a garbage dumpster.

So after spending another $150 at the vet, Robot and I decided to walk Wayne by one of our favorite stores, Hejfina in Wicker Park. The staff is cute, fashionable and tolerant of our animal harem. The dogs wish us to mention the cool concrete floors which feel good on the belly. Anyhow, we introduce them to Wayne and tell them his story and THEY FOUND HIM A HOME.

The always-fly Jiha got on the phone and called a friend who was looking for a kitty. But you know how that goes. They already found one or they don't want one now or they decide they're into ferrets now. I gave them this URL, but I didn't have high hopes. But they wanted him!

And then I panicked. I wanted to find Wayne a place in a shelter, where people more qualified could screen applicants. How will I know? What if Jiha has actually sold her soul to the devil in order to be so cute, and the devil requires kitten sacrifice? What if I don't like them? What if they'd be able to give him a good home anyway, but I just can't get past a George Bush button? What am I going to say to make them see how special he is, and how I want his worst days to be behind him? ACK!

Well, truth is, the only way I can be SURE that he'll have a life as fine as Princess Lola's, is to keep him myself. There are no guarantees.

So Derek and Susan came over to meet Wayne. I opened the door to a little hipster couple. Susan had the cute blunt bangs that I, a curly-haired girl, can never have. Lola ran right up to her, complimented her bangs and begged for attention. Lola liked them so much that I think they could have taken her too. Robot turns around and says, "Hey," like he knows Derek. And he DOES. They went to school together.

I tried to ask the right questions:

1. Are you allowed to have cats in your lease?
2. Sorry to get in your Kool-Aid, but if you break up, who gets Wayne?
3. If you get a free apartment in the Trump Towers but you can't bring Wayne, will you take it?
4. Do you have other pets?
5. Is this your first cat?
6. May I have a urine sample?

But none of this really matters, because people could easily lie. But then Derek looked me in the eye and said, "I'm going to give him a good, life-long home." And I looked at Susan and you could see that Wayne was breaking her heart with his warm-bellied snuggles and his fuzziness and his triangle-headedness.

And, they'd left themselves an out: They didn't drive over. So they wouldn't impulse-adopt the wrong cat. Derek said he and Susan were going to go on instinct - only if the kitten felt right. I liked that. Choose Wayne. Don't settle for Wayne.

Then Robot and I chattered like crazy people because we knew that Wayne was leaving us. I think we went over his medical records for an hour. Poor Derek and Susan. We told them to take a poop sample to the vet 46 times. And then they left with a ton of food a bucket of litter and three pounds of Wayne.

Ryder was mad as hell that we gave his kitten away. He looks in all Wayne's old cubbyholes – no Wayne. He has taken to whimpering when Robot leaves the house again.

Lola as usual, could care less. One less household item for her to avoid. More about her going to daycare to play with her friends!

So raise a glass for a happy ending/beginning.
Thanks and good luck to Susan and Derek.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled canine blogging.

My God. Please help.

Click here to help the animals that were left stranded after Katrina.

scrimpin in the jade plant

scrimpin in th ejade plant
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

The more things change...

I stop by Robot & Ryder's to do my laundry and I bring Lola over for a romp. As usual, they forsake the sprawling yard for living room wrasslin'.

Lola is now in daycare three times a week - complete with pick-up and drop-off again. Heaven. Expensive Heaven, but hallelujah nonetheless.

Lola is no longer that great with other dogs when I'm walking her. She regularly has her fur up. This, again, is my fault. She hasn't been meeting strange dogs in Garfield Park, so she has to get used to it again. Thus I explain the hackles to the other owner and let them sniff cautiously. So far, so good.

Wayne just leapt into my lap.

It will be hard to let this boy go.

bot equals ROBOT.

I have handed over major publishing duties to Robot, as we are vacating the house so that it might enter the Fifth Circle of Renovation Hell. Wait, does it get hotter as the numbers increase or decrease?

Anyhow, as he is no longer playing Handler of Contractors to my poignant portrayal of Shrieking Homeowner Shrew, we are no longer playing house. Both dogs are very confused. Wayne? Well Wayne never has any idea of what's going on because last week he was in a dumpster, this week he's got his own physician. But I think I've found a home for small, brown and possessed.

Finally, I would like to point out that Lola would have taken the fall for the following eating of all things round. All those chewed up round things that I gave her the evil-eye for, were clearly perpetrated by Ryder. My bracelet. My Jeep tire. A Krispy Kreme. Cee-Lo.

Ryder is clearly a roundist.

pappas boy left to his own devices

IMG_2502
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

a little past eight months old, he completed his obedience class and passed the akc good citizen test. it is well hidden or he would have eaten it by now. the boy is having the time of his life with me in one room trying to learn css and javascript, while he plucks treats from atop their temporary moving box habitats. ohh he looks like his pappa though. -bot

the exorcism of wayne the cat

IMG_2516
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

ryder cant help but befriend such an easily cornered kitten.

wayne succumbs

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Originally uploaded by west end girl.

ryder is irressistable afterall. they went on a walk tonight together. wayne on my shoulder with ryder in heel. ran into five kids from the hood including a cute shorty in a diaper running circles round ryder shouting at him to sit and shake and speak . my boy just kept gazing at me as if to ask permission for a late night snack. the walk was followed up with a mediated wayne/ryder session and then milk and cookies for all parties involved. -bot

the last roll my friends...

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Originally uploaded by west end girl.

encore. i see a pattern tonight. anything round may want to respect the enforced curfew. it is for your own good! - bot

the last roll my friends...

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Originally uploaded by west end girl.

this is fodder for an official iditarod application form for ryder. sunday night 11 pm .what more can one say? mush! mush!