Dog Day Afternoon

A deadly Cujo in its natural environment.

A deadly Cujo in its natural environment.

I’ve recently moved into a new office, where I’m surrounded by a vaguely terrifying number of dogs I refer to collectively and individually as “Cujo” since I can never remember their names. There’s a tiny little Chihuahua behind me, a hairy creature with one bad leg, who demands to be picked up and ruffled and who in return licks every part of you he can reach. Little Cujo is about as frickin’ cute as they get.

Cujo is firm friends with Cujo, the black, curly-haired cockapoo-looking fellow two desks down who is actually quite standoffish to humans that he hasn’t been formally introduced to. On the other side of me is Cujo, a stylin’ min-pin bitch who is a total scritch-ho and who will have a partially-consumed sammich out of the trashcan before you can blink.

There are other Cujos around the office, but these are the closest. They’re fairly well-behaved, but will occasionally start barking if their owners are locked away in meetings that the dogs haven’t been invited to. Then you can either go over and distract the dog or drag the owner out of the conference room, depending upon how big and important the meeting is and much you feel like humiliating them in front of their bosses.

While these local dogs are fun to hang out with, they also remind me of my family’s own animals, across the country in darkest Pennsylvania with my wife. I miss ‘em a lot.

Speaking of which, my wife has recently acquired a kitten. “Timmy” was abandoned by some asshole in the woods around our property, and she found him in the barn, lounging insouciantly atop one of her horses. She took Timmy off to the vet for medical treatment and then brought him home, where he has pretty thoroughly captured her heart.



Timmy spends the evenings in my wife’s bedroom. His primary occupations are zooming around wildly, locking dogs in the bathroom, jumping on people’s heads and licking my wife’s armpit, which totally grosses her out. Sometimes Timmy wakes my wife up by licking in her nostrils while she sleeps. Such actions would earn from me an immediate induction for Timmy into the kitty space program, but my wife is smitten.

Timmy likes to sit on our PS3 to watch Australian Open tennis on the big screen TV. He tries to whack the ball as it goes by, and he really has it in for the text crawl on the bottom of the screen. He falls off the PS3 from time to time when the action gets too fierce, particularly when Rafael Nadal is playing. (Or maybe that’s my wife falling out of bed. I get confused.)

We really don’t need another pet around, but Timmy is doing an excellent job of keeping my wife company while I’m off in an enemy time zone elsewhere in the world. He’s friendly and outgoing and totally fearless around the several zillion or so pointers who roam our halls. And, as I said, my wife is smitten. So I think we’re stuck with him, which is all right with me.

Maybe someday he can come here to visit. I’ll take him into work, where he can lock all of the dogs in the bathroom and jump on my co-workers’ heads while I’m in a meeting. That’ll teach ‘em a valuable lesson.


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2 Responses to “Dog Day Afternoon”

  1. The Sister Says:

    There are a lot of Cujos in your life. I question that. Timmy entertains me from a far!

  2. Vortex Says:

    If you don’t have the decency to write about polar vortices, you’re no good to me.

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