Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Merry December 25 th

Merry CKCFN*, to all!
 
Gosh, here it is two days before ChannuKwanChrisFestiviaNalia and I have so many things yet to do. There's trimming the tree--Buddy's been out marking them for months now--and as soon as somebody pulls out and heads for gramma's house? Time to get out the Poulan and save some cash!
 
There's also all of that last minute shoplifting to do.
 
You know how they say some people are hard to buy for? That's silly. They're only hard to buy for if you give a shit what they get. Once you're over being a "Yuletide People Pleaser", it's easy-peasy.
 
I usually sit down a few weeks before CKCFN Day and make a list of all of those people who have shown me kindness over the year, I then resolve to work up some better sob story for the next time I see them, "Beg smarter, not harder", that's my new mantra. So, anyway, after I make that list, I make another, much shorter, list of all of the folks that I HAVE to get a gift for, because, well, just because.
 
I take the list and sit down with a cup of coffee-laced rum and think about what I would like to have if they were buying something for me and, upon realizing that there's no way I can afford any of that shit, I head for "Best Kept Secrets", our local store that sells "experienced" clothing and home furnishings. I spend hours looking for matching novelty salt and pepper shakers, "I'm with Stupid" t-shirts that aren't too badly worn or stained, Packard-Bell micro-cassette answering machines that still work, pretty much (hey, those things are gonna be the next big, "retro" collectible--true story).
 
Ahhh, two days go by so fast. It is now CKCFN Day and I have not yet completed my shopping for gifts. Oh, well, there’s always next year.
 
As many of you know, Buddy the Wonderdog** is an adoptee, he moved in with me about 18 months ago and we spend a lot of time doing male bondage stuff. We have each other’s “back” (except I can scratch mine; otoh, Buddy can li.., well, nevermind). You may imagine my surprise when I was informed recently that Buddy is NOT a mongrel. I was under the impression that he was half dachshund and half Godknowswhatsorta Terrier, a Derriere. But, just a couple of days ago I received a registered letter from Barkin’ Dogs, Inc., the parent company of Hush Puppy Shoes. And what a letter.
 
It seems that Buddy was one of a litter of four identical pups, the result of a group of geneticists crossing Buddy’s pops, a terrier with his moms, a 9 banded Armadillo*** (making him an “Dachsadillo” or an “Armahund”, I’m not sure which). The object of the breeding program was to have 4 little identical fur bearers to make a pair of gloves and a pair of slippers.
 
Not only would they be warm and comfy, but the little button noses are sooooooooooooooooo cute. Also, the armadillo side of the family would have been contributing outsoles for the shoes and palm pads for the gloves. I am glad to finally know why I could never get Buddy’s Kevlar vest off when I wanted to give him a bath.
 
Sadly (or happily, from the Budster’s pov), however, it was not to be. The lab was,  raided by a group of PETA Pumpkin Eaters (the militant vegetarian bio-ethicist splinter group) . All of the records of the experiment were destroyed, the scientists involved were forcibly converted to Chinese slipper wearin, tofu eatin’ burgerhaterz in re-education camps and the pups, Buddy, Binky, Bozo and Biteme (yeah, that one, he’s got some serious ‘tude!) were set free and spirited away from the facility. It was hoped that they might be reunited with their birth parents but Pops had gone outside to relieve himself one afternoon and inadvertently done so on the compounds 440V security fencing. Mom’s meanwhile had wandered out of the compound by digging under the fence (them ‘dilloes, they got some AWSUM claws for diggin’ up the bugz’n’stuff ) and was crossing the 4 lane when a good ‘ol boy in his F150 came tear-assin’ down the road. He saw the critter and laid on the horn at the same time he slammed on the brakes. Moms, she did what armadillii are prone to do when they are surprised, she jumped straight up in the air. She became, briefly, a hood ornament ; she is now a much admired handbag.
 
So, bereft and orphaned, Buddy and his bros hit the road. Binky and Bozo got jobs in Hollywood, as stunt doubledoubles. They send a post card, once in a while, and Buddy always enjoys hearing about their escapades in LaLaLand. Biteme is a working sit-up comedian. He’s been on the Gravy Train Circuit for years, doin’ kennel and grooming salon openings and says he would KILL for shot at a show on Animal Planet.
 
Buddy was on his way to being a circus dog, but ran into a snag. He was in one of those Dog’n’Pony shows for a few months, as an understudy. Then, one day, the lead dog, Biscuit Eater. got distemper (well, that was the story, anyway—between you and me?—he was puttin’ somethin’ in the water bowl and it WASN’T water) and the dog wrangler decided to put Buddy in the show. Well, they groomed him and did his nails, brushed out his tail and they were gonna put him in a tutu—a TUTU fer the luvvapete? Well, he took one look at that rig and he was outtttttttttttttttttttttaa there!
 
He spent some time on the street, fell in with a gang of car chasers and got addicted to catnip  (it was a bad; two, three cans of Alpo a day, habit). So, there he was jonesin’, doing unspeakable things with cats and skwerls just so’s they’d hook him up and it was so sad. There’s no way of knowing for sure, but I gotta guess that if Buddy hadn’t run into me he’da been in doggie heaven (or worse!) a long time ago.
 
One afternoon, I was sittin’ on the front stoop, “takin’ the air” as folks like to say, and comin’ towards me, I see this thing that looks like an animate dust mop. It walks right up to me, sniffs the cuff of my levis and lifts a leg—such powers of discernment in a supposedly dumb animal. Hell, Buddy’s like that pig with the wooden leg (that’s a whole ‘nother story); I quickly jerked my leg outta harm’s way and decided that I had to try to save him.
 
It was hell for a couple of weeks. He’d gotten away from bein’ housebroke, he only wanted to eat chili with extra jalapenos and he kept stealing my beer when I wasn’t looking. I thought I was gonna have to have him, well, best not to go there. Anyway, it all worked out. He came out of rehab with a new leash on life—and THAT’s the shaggy dog joke!
 
 
 
As I write this, Buddy, having performed his sole duty as a roommate—pooping outside—is relaxing on his little bed, with his blankie, on HIS rocking chair. And I just now gave him his Christmas present from Alex and Colleen. He thinks he died and went to his idea of doggie heaven Hydranthalla!
 
Okay, so, the stuff about the armadillo, that’s all true (up (source:  http://apps.caes.uga.edu/urbanag/index.cfm?storyid=2685) except for the stuff that I made up.
 
So is everything else, sorta.
 
I got my Christmas present yesterday, from the VA, they gave me the MRI on my lower back that I’ve been trying to get for the last several years. Hopefully they will find out what’s making life more difficult than I would prefer it to be. I’m not crippled or anything (well, I may be around the bend, mentally) but I have trouble standing up straight unless I have something to lean on, like a bar—and then, after a while, I have a hard time standing up straight WITH a bar to lean on.
 
Anyway, life is good. I have great friends, wonderful family—all over the country and a faithful furry companion to make me get up and leave the house at LEAST 3 times a day to “take the air”.
 
Thanks to all who sent me cards, letters and photos, I’m currently re-purposing the refrigerator doors and expect to have the changeover done by mid to late June.
 
It was great seeing everyone in July, although I was only able to drive about half of you nuts (so many stories to make up and so little time to tell them). My house is airtight, sheetrocked and finished enough for those who like to camp indoors. I’m going to put a 10 pound bone in ham in the oven in a few minutes and buddy and I will enjoy a feast later (he does not get ham, but he loves roasted sweet potatoes) and then we’ll go see who we can harass.
 
I wish all of you the happiest of holidays and a newer, bigger and much improved 2013.
 
Peace and love from your favorite dope.
 
Terry
 
 
*     ChannuKwanChrisFestiviaNalia , don't you just love acronyms!
 
**    As in, “I wonder where he’s left his latest “present” for me to find.
 
*** Armadillos (oes, ii, ae?) usually have four virtually identical babeez.—true story./ There are, btw, lots of “true stories” in my writings, some are true as in factually, others are true as in metaphorical, allegorical, political or Bunyanesqe sortaways. I beg the readers’ indulgence in the matter.
 


 



 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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