Ginger Puppy Strikes Again

I’m back housesitting, which means adventure time with the Westies Basil and Ginger Puppy. Basil is recovering from a slipped disc in his neck, and his official instructions are “restricted movement.’ which means I carry him everywhere. I may not have to be that extreme about it, but better safe than sorry, and His Highness certainly enjoys the royal treatment. He thinks he should be carried all the time.

I don’t blame him, if I had my druthers, I’d wanna be carried too. For the longest time, my playwright bio in programs of any plays I did would say “Amy enjoys the color black, Cinnamon Sugar cookies from Mrs. Fields, and big strong men who can pick her up and carry her around.” ‘Cause when it’s 99 Seat Theater in Los Angeles and the majority of the people coming to see your show aren’t the I Care About Credits Type, you might as well give them something interesting to read while they’re waiting for the lights to go down. There’s something very primal to a straight chick about a Big Strong Guy Who Can Pick You Up And Carry You Around. The few times I’ve managed to shanghai a dude into doing it, I make him do laps around the living room and kitchen. They think I’m nuts, but it’s quite a turn on.

I have no idea what it does for a dog, though.

Anyways, so His Highness Basil is cooped up inside his crate all day, and Ginger Puppy stays outside. If you remember from previous entries , Ginger Puppy is actually Jesus in dog form, so I thought I’d attempt to transcribe her stream of consciousness the first time she sees me the first day of any housesitting gig.

It’s dark outside. Where’s dinner? Did they forget about me? I bet Basil convinced them I never existed and that’s why I’m stuck out here. This is me. This is my life. Stuck in a fenced in part of the backyard while they put in a pool…

Hey, wait a second. Whazza…whazzit…whozzit…it’s, it’s, it’s, HER! HER! HOT DAMN, I’M SAVED! COME GET ME!

Me, me, me! Come get ME! ME ME ME ME! Oh, it’s her, oh boy oh boy oh boy, oh boy oh boy oh boy, oh boy oh boy oh boy, oh boy oh boy oh boy, oh boy oh boy oh boy, oh boy oh boy oh boy, oh boy oh boy oh boy, oh boy oh boy oh boy, oh boy oh boy oh boy, oh boy oh boy oh boy, oh boy oh boy oh boy, oh boy oh boy oh boy, oh boy oh boy oh boy WE’RE GONNA PARTY!

We’re gonna jump and dance and laugh and sing and play. Jump jump JUMPITY JUMP! Wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy COME GET ME!

(Amy undoes the latch to let Ginger Puppy out of the gate.)

HI! Hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi jumpity jumpity jump wag wag wag wag wag wag wag hi hi hi hi jumpity jumpity jump jump.

(Amy says “Ginger Puppy, Down. Off.”)

Okay. I’m sitting. I know that command I’m sitting, I’m…YOU’RE HERE! WE’RE GONNA PARTY! We’re gonna jump and dance and laugh and sing and play. Jump jump JUMPITY JUMP!

Didja see the backyard!? It’s all torn up! Look at all this dirt! Look look look LOOK AT IT! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!? ISN’T IT THE MOST EXCITING THING YOU’VE EVER SEEN!? I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE HERE!

Let’s go inside and get me dinner! I can’t believe you’re here! Wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy. hi hi hi hi hi hi hi

This is the reason that people get a dog instead of a cat. The sheer naked joy at EVERYTHING. There’s no pretense with her. Everybody is wonderful, everything is a reason to party. And I am her best friend, at least, until her daddies Albert and Abbot get back.

Even now as I write this, she’s curled up at the bottom of the office chair, which has wheels, so I have to careful I’m not gonna roll on her fur. And all she wants is to be nearby. Here. Present with me. As opposed to His Highness Basil, who’s curled up in his crate, ‘cause he knows if he has to go anywhere, I’ll carry him. Funny.