Wow. I was not going to write the post I am about to write. (It was going to be about the “sharing group”, which I will still probably write, because it was… quite an event… but I’ll save it for another day.)
I had just written this title, which was actually going to be a story about something completely different…
But then my dog was lying there, crying at me, and I said, “What is your point! What is your malfunction!” (But I always say it in a way where I’m like, thinking he’s the most brilliant thing in the world, even for sitting at me crying– which, to be fair, usually he is.)
Actually the reason he was crying is because his new little friend (a boxer, technically bigger) is next door and he can’t get to him, and he somehow wants me to let this other person’s dog outside to play with him in the yard– but she is busy having… “discussions”… with my neighbor/basically brother, I’m pretty sure so I don’t really want to walk in on that… again.
(Actually, if you really want to get specific, I’m just glad I’m not actually involved in whatever “discussions” they are having. Because one time not too long ago, when they were having an actual discussion about their “discussion”, they felt the need to expound upon so many areas, and it was so early in the morning that day, and all I wanted to do was just let my dog out to pee and never hear of these stories again.
It was one of those moments where my neighbor Kyle was saying to his girlfriend, “Oh, Emily’s like my sister; she knows everything about me, I don’t have any secrets from her.” And I’m saying, “Kyle, you know what. I’m okay with secrets. Secrets are what makes the world go round! Keep your fifty-shades-of-neighbor to yourself! I promise I won’t be mad!”
Not even that I care, or mind one way or the other, I mean, looking back over my photos on my computer, one day I was actually surprised at how many individual times I’d apparently found it necessary to take a picture of my period cup for sending to my friends.
[I’m sorry, you can’t have my number.]
It’s like, you think you’ve maybe done it once, and come to find out, that’s like, your normal regime.
But I’m still fascinated by my period and that freaking cup. Best idea, and invention, ever.)
Did I ever do a post on that?
It’s my favorite thing in the world; if I haven’t, I will.
So then I let him outside to “neutralize his malfunction”. (Blue, not Kyle.) (He knows big words. He knows what they mean.)
(Right now I am sitting outside and he’s staring at me– from their porch– like, “What the eff are you doing, when you could be letting him out.”)
Okay so I wrote out the title and was going to write the post, but my dog was crying, so I went to let him out, but I also had an empty beer bottle that I on a whim decided to bring out to the garage while I was doing it. So I let him out, and I was walking across the yard to the garage and kind of dancing around with my beer and singing this song, that I told you already today to listen to, so obviously, since you did, it’s probably in your head, too.
(“Take it, take it all, take all that I haaaaave.”)
(“Give it all away just to get you back. FAKE IT FAKE IT ALL FAKE ALL THAT I HAVE (??). KNOCKING SO LOUD CAN YOU HEAR ME YELL. TRY TO STAY AWAY BUT YOU CAN’T FORGEEEEAAAAAATTTTTTT.”)
(“WAAAAAAAAAAAAKE YOU UP/INTHEMIDDLEOFTHENIGHT
I WON’T EVER WALK AWAY
IMNEVERGONNA LEAVE THIS BED.
YOU SAY GO IT ISN’T WORKING AND I SAY NO IT ISN’T PERFECT SOI’LLSTAY
I’M NEVER GONA LEAVE THIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSS BAAAEEEAAAAAAAAD WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
You know. Kinda like that.
And I’m singing this song, in my on-par-with-Adele-like-an-angel voice, and I’m walking into the garage, and all of a fucking sudden, I hear a “CHIRP”, and I thought for a second I’d stepped on a bird, because this bird chirped like a mofo. (Now in hindsight I’m thinking maybe it was the chipmunk, now I’m having to question everything I’ve ever known.)
And then, a second later, or half a second later, or almost instantaneously, a CHIPMUNK DROPS FROM THE FUCKING SKY. (Okay, the ceiling, the rafters). Or wait. Maybe somehow he was already running around up there, and I accidentally scared him of balance with my voice. Because I couldn’t see a bird, but still, it seemed to me it probably was a bird who dropped him. OK?
And this is how, me, by my singing, saved a chipmunk from a hawk.
I actually don’t know what kind of bird it was. I’m PRETTY SURE THERE WAS A BIRD WHO I SCARED, AND MADE HIM DROP THE CHIPMUNK out of the sky.
The little thing like dropped like a little rock onto the concrete floor and spun around in circles a few times but then he seemed to be okay! And he ran off into the yard.
Probably to be eaten by another hawk.
This is actually not the first time I have saved a chipmunk in real life. (I don’t mean to brag.)
Last year, Blue showed me to one drowning (well, it was “swimming” in this flower pot that had gotten overflown with rain and Blue was just standing there, staring, kind of like, casually watching this thing fight for its life like it was daytime television entertainment, but he did lead me to it) and I actually got to cuddle with it for a good half hour until he regained his nerves and was ready to go back and join the chipmunk parade. That was a highlight of my life.
Chipmunks are good.
When we had the one who was half-dead from exhaustion and half-drowned, Blue kept wanting to play with him, and I kept saying, “No, Blue, that is going to PUT HIM OVER THE EDGE.” So I was holding him in a little washcloth up against me and when Blue finally realized I wasn’t giving him to him to play, then he suddenly wanted all my attention, like if I wouldn’t give him to him, then at the very least it was my RESPONSIBILITY to keep his mind off his loss, and to keep him entertained while I was giving my attention to some other animal.
So I’m fucking trying to throw my dog his frisbee while also hold this chipmunk in a semi-stable state against my chest. My dog is a dick.
But he’s so unbelievably cute I just want to inject him into my veins and melt him down and soup him so.
I let him be.