I Wanna Be Your Dog (Or Cat): Oh, For A Muse Of Fire (Hydrants)
Animals wind up at the Bureau of Animal Regulation and Care for all sorts of reasons. Regular readers know all too well of the existence of douchey owners who surrender cats and dogs for idiotic reasons. But today's dirty half-dozen are all stray. They've been out there in that cruel world all on their own, and no doubt they've seen things. To borrow from our slightly torqued Uncle Joe, a Vietnam vet who lives in a tent by Buffalo Bayou, they've "been in the shit."
So we asked them to share a few of their stories and thoughts with us. Now, we're not flat-out calling them plagiarists, but, to a dog, their writing turned out to be awfully similar to some pretty important pieces of literature and lyric. That's why we've included info about where these guys may have found their "inspiration." But plagiarists or not, they're damn cute, and you should adopt one.
|Photos by Robyn Arouty|
This year-old golden retriever/German shepherd mix appears to be a huge fan of Jack Kerouac's On the Road.
Dean was sacked out in back, so I took the wheel, watching the white line hug the tires, and I thought about just driving straight down to South America. I listened to these crazy jazz records this cat was playing on a station we barely picked up out of New Orleans while Fat Stan told me about growing up in Abilene and going to obedience school in New York. But instead of learning how to pee on newspaper and fetch slippers, he spent all his time reading Shakespeare and popping benzedrine. I was only half-listening, though, because my mind was on South America and jazz and wondering if the cajun milk bones in the French Quarter were as magical as I'd heard.
Like every fifth grader, this 18-month old lab retriever knows her Robert Frost.
I shall be telling this with a woof
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one that had a fire hydrant
This year-old German shepherd mix told us that Yeats was a huge influence, which didn't surprise us, since he basically ripped off "The Song of Wandering Aengus."
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lads and hilly lands
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And kiss her lips and sniff her butt;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck til time and times are done
The silver milkbones of the moon
The golden Snausages of the sun
Looks like a certain three-year-old catahoula is a member of Oprah's book club. Can you say Cormac McCarthy?
When the first gray light broke, the dog woke up the puppy and they fastened on their knapsacks. The dog loaded the portable kennel and the water bowls into the cart, and they set out on the road again. The knapsacks held essentials -- rawhide chews and Alpo -- in case they had to abandon the cart and make a run for it. They passed burnt tree-stumps and holes filled with ash and glass and twisted chunks of chrome.
Papa, the puppy asked.
How come when we talk, there are no quotation marks?
Because it's edgy, son. Now let's just walk some more and be sullen.
This two-year-old brown lab mix apparently felt drawn to Jon Krakauer's tale of that doomed societal drop-out who went Into the Wild and never came back. Jeez, Toby, what a downer!
Greetings from Fairbanks! This is the last you shall hear from me, Rex. Arrived here two days ago. It was very difficult to catch rides in the Yukon Territory because of the fleas. But I finally got here. Please return all mail I receive, like my Gentledog's Quarterly and my Squeaky Toy of the Month Club gifts, to the sender. It might be a very long time before I return south. If this adventure proves fatal and you don't ever hear from me again, I want you to know you're a great catahoula. I know walk into the wild. --Fido Supertramp.
We always hear Dean, a year-old border terrier mix, strumming his guitar right after he stuffs towels between the bars of his cage so no one can tell what he's smoking. So it didn't surprise us that he turned to Dylan to tell his tail -- err, tale.
Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed one?
And where you have you been, my darling young one?
I've sniffed on the side of twelve misty hydrants
I've played and I've pooped in six crooked dog parks
I've humped ten thousand legs in the mouth of a graveyard
And it's a hard tail's a-gonna wag
Thanks as always to Robyn Arouty for her inimitable photography -- and remember, we've still got PetSmart gift cards available. Get to it, people!