Tuesday, February 24, 2004
Spoon's Vida Loca
I took Spoon for a walk in the rain and the fur on the crown of her head frizzed up in this really fetching and endearing way, like a curly toupee or an L.A. girl gangbanger’s bangs. I remember reading years ago how schools in Los Angeles were having to enact these very strict dress and grooming codes because the Latina students were teasing and ratting their bangs up into stratospheric heights to signify their membership and rank in the gang social hiearchy. The bang’s height corresponded with the girl’s standing in the gang, like they were chickens who had decided to establish pecking order according to comb size. The girls were having horrible fights over rank and were trying to yank their rivals’ bangs out so the schools had to establish limits on the size of bangs to restore order. Each morning the girls would have to line up to have their bangs measured with a ruler. I think the height limit was 2 inches, and if the girls’ hair exceeded that then they were sent home or they had to wet down their hair so it would lie flat against their skulls.
The hair on Spoon’s head stayed fluffed up in the weird little cowlick until yesterday, when she had a long overdue grooming. Although I miss the patch, her beautiful tawny caramel undercoat is now exposed and she is so crazy beautiful we’re now calling her Tawny Kitaen.
Billy Jack also got his nails clipped, always a traumatic and dangerous experience for everyone involved. Elizabeth had to restrain him by laying her entire body over him while our friend Lynne, a professional groomer, hurriedly clipped them. Billy emitted these terrifying, unearthly squawks like he was being stretched on the rack but seems to have made a full recovery and forgiven us.
It’s a big relief that they’re now trimmed because they had grown to such Howard Hughes lengths that he was jabbing us painfully and clawing at us to get his way and I was beginning to live in fear of him and his pungi stick nails. Being intimidated by your 25 pound dog is a really pathetic way to live.
Sunday morning Elizabeth fried up the last of the bacon that Dan smoked back in the Fall and I made the mistake of putting some pork fat in their food as a special treat. Now the puppies refuse to eat their food unless I put a dollop of pork fat in it, and Spoon keeps trying to lure me back into the kitchen to give her more from the tin can full of it which rests on the top of the stove. She spends the rest of the day gazing out the window, screaming at other dogs who 'trespass' on the sidewalk, and daydreaming of pork.
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