Dear Climbing the Walls,

One part rum, two parts ginger ale, one part apricot juice, one part no sex, 4 ice cubes. Stir.

Just helps a titch,

A

I have been validated.

I know, I said enough with the pets, but dude, that’s all I got going on. I mean really, that is all. I. Have. Going. On. Walks, stupid work, hanging out with the furries, hikes, sweeping, hanging. I am going mad.

Anyway, I have reached a fabulous milestone with Charles Emerson Winchester the Third. Charlie/Tarlie is indeed at least half German Shepherd, and although this is blatantly obvious, I have not been tuned into it. My research on the internet about the German Shepherd characteristics/behaviors is not so very helpful because it does not go into the Subtle Nuances of The Shepherdy Personality. I have recently spoken and spent dog time with German Shepherd Ladies, and they have informed me that Charlie (responds better to the “Ch” sound) is very happy and loves me. I am shocked.

They taught me that the face he makes is not misery; it is actually contentment, and how to read his tiny subtle body language signs. I was shown that he looks to me first to get the okay, and then acts. I was also shown how to do simple training type things that will increase his bond, up to and including being off leash. A lot of Shepherds are aloof and distant, yet strongly bonded. They love absolute rules, too, which as a cat person I have had a difficult time wrapping my brain around. Who knew? Yer mama did.

I am a moron, apparently. He is smart, cute, sweet, regal, and his occasional stubbornness is workable. I have lightened up, and so has he. Sometimes he’s even silly. I am so used to dorky Labrador dogs with one obvious mood that I was thrown for a loop when a contemplative, subtle, person/dog came along.

I have worked with him more on not obsessing over or eating the neighbor kitten, and he is perfectly content to wait for me to come home from work to walk him (which freaked me out for a long time. What? He can just sleep and wait in the same spot? Um, like, watching over his herd all day?). We have reduced his episodes of occasional what the hell did you do that for to almost never. In fact, even for being a neglected rescue, he is a very Good Dog. A Good Boy! I am learning how to work within the realm of the Shepherd, and it’s a lot harder than just hollerin at spaz Labs. I have to, like, concentrate and remember rules and stuff. My dog is deeper than I am.

I think I love him.

Enough with the pets, somebody take me out for a drink for heaven’s sake.

I Know, Right? Totally.

So there’s this kitten and I find out he’s owned by the Transsexual in the halfway house next door. And I see this kitten under cars parked on the street all week, and I hear Jen calling for him all the time. So I’m all, okay, the kitten is “owned,” although I’m all “tsk, tsk,” on letting it out on the streets, but the kitten seems smart and wylie.

Except there’s this other part to the story (you’re telling yourself, what? There’s more than a Transsexual neighbor (yay!), a halfway house, a kitten of which we all know Sassy Auntie’s in the zone of rescuing because surely she has been a nervous wreck for the kitten and yes she’s briefly talking in third person), and no, it’s not Gus, because he’s sort of hot and cold with the kitten – one minute having long conversations with him and the next taunting him. It would be Tarlie, who wants to chase and eat the kitten. And who is obsessed with where the kitten is at every moment. Who I have introduced with smart and skillful ways, and still he wants to eat with every quivering cell in his coyote body. And I have just added another task to my days because now I have to be attached to Tarlie’s drooling side at every moment outside because I know at that one opportune second, he’ll hop the fence and have him in 2.2 micro-seconds. This I know with every cell in my body.

p.s. I am deducing from conversations and appearance she is currently in transition. However, I do not know if she considers herself Transgender or Transsexual. Or anything.

Monthly Series, and I don’t mean periods.

The Last Cylon: Who do I think it is this month?

I know. Gay dogs, pissy cats, and what…that SciFi crap? Whatev’s; come on over and I’ll make you a Blue Rasberry Vodka cocktail and tell you all about my aching back.

Anyway, I’ve got some catching up to do, so I’ll pretend it’s still a few months ago and I think it’s Roslin. Laura MILF Roslin. That one lady from Dances with Wolves and Donnie Darko. The President of the human race. The weed smoking luvva of Edward James Olmos(’s character). The one who’s always right. The lady who can make doves cry their asses off just by acting.

I started wondering at the beginning of Season 4. That’s right, it took me that long to start wondering. Three years. Let’s just say I take a long time to begin to marinate on things. Right off the bat in the first episode of this season, she started pointing the finger at the Cylons and Starbuck and did some weird shit, and I was all, “What is up with her!” And then I was all, “DUDE she’s a Cylon.” And then I felt really manipulated and began to second guess myself and then I whithered into a heaping pile and had to start from scratch, because making her the final Cylon would be so perfectly f’d up and mind-blowing that I couldn’t think about it anymore.

You see, people, she has really made all the calls from the start. She has groomed Gay Lee to go against his father (Olmos) and she has had simultaneous whackadoo “visions” with Cylons. She has tortured Baltar, thrown peeps out the airlock, and has been revered as a dying leader (cancer) in their scriptures. How have I not thought about this earlier? Cuz it’s staring me right the face. Clearly, I do not realize things when they are staring me right in the face until three years later. This is the story of my fraking life. You see what I mean by whithering.

Just wait until next month. You don’t even know.

Dog Rescues & Maybe Tarlie’s Gay

1. I was on my way home from the cabin in 100 degree heavy mountain weekend traffic and I stopped to pick up a very scared lost dog. I checked around the village and nobody claimed her so I posted her on craigslist, called the tiny local vet, and took her to the Boise Humane Society. On my way to the pound, I rescued another dog that was wandering in heavy traffic. Two stranger dogs (one a pit bull) with me singing on the freeway, “Isn’t this fun? Please don’t eat me. I hope I’m not dooming you to your death.” I’m scared to go anywhere now – next it could be some ferrets and a badger or an alpaca. Or the dreaded Raccoon. I already have a mini-sanctuary for heaven’s sake.

2. I have deduced, with help from Jebus, that I’m pretty sure Tarlie’s whole deal is that he’s a big fag and I need to be sensitive to that. I’m just going to pull out my Babs and Judy since I’m a gay guy in dyke’s clothing anyway. Things are already going better since I give him more time in the mornings to put on his eyeliner.

I’m pretty sure there’s something dead hauntin’ me

In the extreme heat and brick house with no air conditioning to speak of, I have been awakened from my crappy sweaty neckid restless sleep by the stench of something real bad-like. Twice. I don’t know what the hell it is. Cat farts? My farts? What?

I have deduced that I’ve been cursed by dead critters. There was this spider the other day that looked real scary-like, all black widow similar but kind-of tiger striped, and Lucky Lou was heading for it in the hallway and I stopped the pending poison with my thong. I slapped that thong on the spider real hard.

Just so you know, where I came from thongs were worn on the feet, and g-strings were worn round the crotch. I don’t know what’s happening to the world these days.

Anyway, and I’m not kidding here, in fact I feel just plain awful and kind-of violated…After I smushed it, tiny baby spiders started crawin out all which ways from under the big one. It was like some kind of horror movie, with the soundtrack string orchestra pickin away at the violins all random-like. I was shocked that this was happening and I did the worst thing I have ever done in all my life. The worst thing ever. I was committed, and I killed them. I killed them all except for maybe a half dozen who were smarter than me. I killed Charlotte’s web and her babies.

I understand if you all break up with me now.

But, karma is taking care of me with the dead stench waking me up. I’m real sorry. And real horrified still.