For Hollie

Tags

cooking, dogs, friendship, Whidbey

Our friendship
means more
than most
things
to me.

Happiness
is piling
two eager
dogs into
the back
of the car,
letting them
run while we
walk in the
ionized air.

On the crest
of Greenbank
Farm, we are
reminded that
we are on
an island,
water on both
sides of us.

This day is

all dog barks
& tennis balls

laughter &
conversation

kale & apple salad,
cauliflower mac & cheese,
topped off with slices
of rich flourless chocolate cake,
embellished with fresh
whipped cream, delivered
by your husband.

We two women,
royalty on the sofa,
sipping our beers
with pinkies up.

A day like today,
a friendship like ours:
this is why good poetry exists.

(Also, gratitude.)

 

Waiting for Rosa

Tags

breakups, dog parks, dogs, heartbreak

Ellen McLaughlin’s playwriting exercise (from The Playwright’s Workout):

“4.) A couple realize they are no longer in love.”

(Dog park. Dusk. The stage is eerily lit with the glow of unseen solar powered panels. Gretchen sits on a park bench. To the right, a bucket of frisbees and other dog paraphernalia. She carefully picks up a soggy tennis ball, wipes it off on her jeans and places it next to her on the bench. She regards it as though it were alive, as if it might speak to her. Silence. Then.)

Gretchen. You’re not supposed to come to the dog park if you don’t have a dog.

(A muffled dog barks from far away. She looks up.)

Sounds like a Saint Bernard. Or a mastiff. You can tell by that deep, throaty tone–it echoes.

(Beat.)

I used to come here at least once a day. Usually after work. I would meet him and his dog here. She was a chocolate lab. Rosa. He liked Swedish things. I always thought it was idiotic to name an American breed by a Swedish name. But, she came into his life before I did. She would almost knock me over when I came into the pen. She got up on her hind legs like she was trying to give me a hug. You see, I used to be afraid of dog–I was bit by a little yappy one when I was a kid and ever since….But I couldn’t be afraid of her, right? Because part of loving him was the dog. And at first she was a nuisance. But then she became a fixture. Part of our routine.

I’m a selfish person. I expect people to anticipate my needs. To be thoughtful so I don’t have to be. I started trying to be less selfish, trying to do more, trying to anticipate things for him. I would get up early on the weekend mornings and take her to the dog park myself, while he was showering. She began to listen to me better than she listened to him–gradually seeing me as the alpha instead of him. Because I was more assertive. Because I knew what I wanted.

(She picks up the tennis ball.)

I would sit on this bench and we would play fetch. She would bring the ball to me and place it gently on my lap. When she played fetch with him, he would have to chase her to get the ball, sometimes even wrestle her for it.

That’s when it was over, really. When we both started caring more about what Rosa thought of us than what we thought of each other.

When he broke up with me, first I experienced shock. Then an overwhelming desire to say goodbye to Rosa. He denied me that opportunity, forbade it, said it “wasn’t a good idea.”

And that’s when I really got mad. I started writing text messages that should have melted my phone.

“What is your fucking problem. Are you so insecure that you think I would hurt your fucking dog?!?! We’re going to talk about this. I know where you work. I’ll be waiting by your car when you’re done today.”

But I didn’t. I came to the dog park that afternoon, though, when I knew he’d be there. I walked the trails and sat on a bench. I knew he would see my car in the parking lot. I heard his voice and then his father’s, walking around the trails. I got up and started walking in the opposite direction until I was sure they had left the park.

I thought about stealing her. The pen where she was kept during the day wasn’t locked. It would be easy enough to grab her in the night without her barking. We could run away together, start a new life without him. But he would have known it was me. He would have found us. And then I would be as crazy as he said I was in those last days.

(She stands up, finds a chuck-it, picks up the tennis ball offstage. Waits, as if Rosa might come back with it. Shakes her head, walks around the stage, finding other balls to throw during the following:)

That’s what I miss most about the relationship. (Beat.) The dog. (Beat.) Rosa.

NaPoWriMo Day 6, Poem 1: Luigi’s Complaint

Tags

dogs, music, NaPoWriMo

Luigi sprawls on the laminate floor
and regards the contents of the bookshelves.
A menorah, a telescope,
Dali’s depictions of the four seasons.
He is very fond of being a beagle,
his only complaint is the soundtrack
that his master leaves playing for him
when he exits the apartment they share.
It’s classical music. The only thing
Luigi hates more than classical music
is the cat who rubs its ass up against
the sliding glass door on Wednesdays.
Luigi is almost tall enough to reach
the laptop with his paws and contemplates
attempting to hit the square things
in front of the screen that look
like square black pieces of kibble.
He desires a more adventurous soundtrack.
Perhaps jazz, or maybe some blues.

Luigi has dreams about a French poodle
who sings to him in a cafe. In between
her sets, they drink shots of espresso
and talk about art. In these dreams,
he is always wearing a tuxedo and a fedora,
she is clad in a blue cocktail dress
that fits snuggly against her curly white fur.

Instead of dreaming, today he is stuck with Handel.

At 1 PM, the cat will lewdly rub itself against the glass.
At 3 PM, Luigi will patrol the floor for crumbs.
At 5:15, he will sit in front of the door,
eagerly awaiting the return of his master
and the death of Handel.

Canine Cop’s Log, 1/15/2013

Tags

dogs

 

Ok, so my job, as a drug-sniffing dog, is to make sure cars in the ferry line don’t have drugs or things that might explode.  So I shuffle around eagerly with my handler, sniffing bumpers.  Honestly, most of the bumpers smell like piss and salt, but it’s a pretty good gig.  I mean, I get to be outside, sometimes there are dogs in the other cars, and, if I’m really lucky, I get a fricking hot dog and a round of fetch when it’s all over.  Sure, I could be living the high-life on a farm somewhere, chasing chickens or some crap like that.  But I am proud to be a public servant.  My mom and dad were award-winning birders.  But I’ve never been super fast, and I don’t like carrying around a dead bird in my mouth.  That’s gross, right?!  I’d rather stick to bumpers and hot dogs.  Plus, have you ever stuck your head out of a cop car while it’s whizzing down the road with the sirens blaring.  That is the coolest thing ever.  Seriously.  Sometimes I think about what it would be like to settle down and have some puppies, but–married life, who needs it, am I right?!  It’s a good gig, sniffing bumpers.  I’m happy.

Dog Park

Tags

dogs

 

You can’t go to the dog park if you don’t have a dog.
I mean, you probably shouldn’t.
Going to the dog park without a dog
is like going to the kid park without a kid.
People get suspicious.

There are no dog custody arrangements
when two humans break up.
It would be nice if it were common practice
to employ an animal psychic
and ask the dog what he or she wants.
Set up a schedule accordingly.

Sometimes I go to the dog park
sans dog.
I stay in my car and
watch the dogs fetch
and sniff each other’s butts.
Their social hierarchy
makes more sense than ours.

When I’m feeling very nervy
I might even go on the trails.
I have this fantasy
that a chocolate lab
picks up my scent
races to me
and no matter how much
others call, whistle or beckon,
she stays by my side.

For now, I must content myself
with the occasional dog sit
and visiting friends with dog.
Being a friend to dogs
instead of an owner
is still a noble profession.

The Day I Saved Zeus’s Life

Tags

dogs, fiction, writing

Working with Hedgebrook’s first ever virtual writing prompt!

“TODAY’S THE DAY YOU SAVE A LIFE

You’re on your way to lunch when you walk by a crowd of people staring up toward the sky. You look up and see someone at the top of a building getting ready to jump to his or her death. Quickly you realize you know this person—in fact, it’s someone from work. Something about this moment overtakes, so you rush to the top of the top of the building to save this person’s life.”

 

My heart was pounding in my chest. I had no idea how a 90 pound Mastiff/Australian Shepherd mix got to the roof of the Grand Central Building.  How was that even possible?!  He must have figured out doorknobs.

I ran up the four flights of stairs and climbed up the fire escape.  I approached Zeus slowly and carefully.

“Whatcha doing, buddy?”

Suddenly, thankfully, I was given the ability to communicate telepathically with this dog in crisis.

“It’s the stupid new puppy,” thought Zeus.  “Everyone likes him way better than me.  He’s not even that cute.  And he wines.  And farts a lot.  I’m a big dog, and even I don’t fart that much.  He needs to switch to a different diet, for sure.  I am going to jump off this building to escape from his farts forever.”

“Zeus, you don’t want to do that. Think of Kelsye!  You’re her rock, she would miss you so much, she would be beside herself.  She’s already really bummed that I’ve already surpassed her Klout score in a matter of days. This would just ruin her.  Don’t jump!”

Zeus slowly regarded me with his big brown eyes, taking it all in.

“Ok,” he thought. “I won’t jump, but you’re buying me a steak.”

“Deal.”

Dog vs Dating

Tags

boobs, dogs

It’s almost 4:30 on a Friday afternoon, and my bra is already off.  This is not a good sign.  The later in the day my bra is discarded has a direct correlation to the decreased likelihood of it getting put back on.

In the past few weeks, I’ve found myself spending more time visiting Petfinder and similar dog-scoping-out websites and less time on dating websites.  I don’t have anything against dating–I would like to be dating more, but at this point, a dog seriously seems like less effort with a greater return on the investment of time.

Hear me out:

1) Dogs give you unconditional love.

True, there are some human males that are capable of this as well, but it seems to me that there’s nothing as pure as dog love.

2) Dogs are unabashedly honest.

Dogs don’t sulk because you bought them the wrong kind of kibble.  They may have diarrhea or just ignore the food, but they won’t let resentment build up over the food and then tell you about it two months later.

3) You don’t have to worry about being over-communicative with a dog.

Dogs aren’t annoyed by drunk dials, late night texts or if you come home to see them much earlier than previously arranged because you just missed them so much.

4) Dogs are easily motivated by treats.

It is valid argument that men are motivated by treats as well, but dog treats are cheaper and more easily accessible than man treats.

5) Dogs aren’t afraid of commitment.

If you adopt a dog, you are (in an ideal world) making up to a 16-18 year commitment. The same does not hold true for all boyfriends.

6) Dogs won’t accuse you of being neurotic, selfish or vain. 

Or if they do, it’s only with their eyes.

 

Romantic relationships with human males can be equally as rewarding as having a dog, for many reasons.  I just can’t think of any of them, since I’ve already taken my bra off.  Bra-lessness also has a direct correlation to temporary memory loss.

Dogs, Drag Queens and Double Bluff Beach

Tags

breakups, dogs, drag queens, RuPaul's Drag Race, Whidbey

In the wake of a recent break up (that could be the 4th “d” of the alliterative title: I got dumped) I have begun the process of taking stock of what I have learned from the process and how I succeeded in muddling through somewhat successfully.

First, I came out of the relationship with a great love of dogs. Anyone who knows me well is surprised by my newfound affection of canines. In the past, I have been notorious in my fear of dogs. I would wait outside after knocking until I was sure that someone had their hand on the dog’s collar. It bordered on phobic.

I was bitten (nipped, really) by some sort of terrier when I was little, so I guess my behavior was understandable. But after frequenting the dog park and becoming attached to a certain chocolate lab, I realized I was able to walk away from the breakup saying that I am a bone-ified dog lover (pun intended).

If you’re into Animal Medicine cards, you know that dogs symbolize loyalty. It’s a fairly logical leap to make. And that idea was further solidified but the string of inexplicably affectionate dog interactions I’ve had recently. It is almost as if dogs have a telepathic pipeline and they come up to say “I know you that you didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to the dog you loved, so I’d like to hang with you for a bit and offer you comfort.”

Secondly, a major support in powering through the breakup was discovering RuPaul’s Drag Race. If you haven’t heard of this show, seriously, you should go watch it, all the episodes are available online at www.logotv.com.

This reality show is a competition with drag queens. You get the opportunity to see the contestants both in and out of drag. Each episode boasts transformations of epic proportions. And the series has a spin-off called RuPaul’s Drag U, where biological women get paired with drag queen professors to identify and create an empowered alter ego.

As an actress, I am familiar with the ritual of transformation before a performance. Usually, I decorate my dressing room space with pictures that remind me of my character, and might even assemble a playlist and listen to it while applying make up. One of the highest compliments I can receive is someone saying “YOU were in that show?!?! You played THAT part?” If we’re doing our job right as actors, hopefully we achieve something similar to a spiritual transformation–at our best, we embody our character so completely, we become virtually recognizable.

Lastly: Double Bluff Beach. As I’ve said before, I work for Hedgebrook, which houses a writing retreat for women on Whidbey Island. Since the beach is close to the retreat, I often find myself making time to go to the beach before work in order to center myself. And there are often lots of dogs, which is a huge bonus.

Last week, I went to Double Bluff beach around nine o’clock and sat on one of the benches that overlook the breath-taking view of the water. A woman was walking three corgis. One of them plopped down under my bench. I turned around and looked at the dog. He acknowledged me briefly and then went back to lounging. The woman turned around and called the dog. No response. She walked back to the bench and had a conversation with the dog:

“Well you just want to stay here by this nice lady? I’m afraid that’s not an option,” she looked at me and said “This is so weird, he never does this, usually he’s so excited to take a walk.”

I just looked at her and smiled. The dog telepathy hotline was up and running and working in my favor. I got my dose of canine companionship, took a mental picture of the beach and walked off to start my day, wondering what my drag name might be…