I Am?!  I Am the Dog?!

Dingo Girl and I got back from Mom’s late this afternoon.  I meant to blog more while I was there but Mom was a slave driver kept me busy.  After this week, between yard work and paper work, I don’t think there isn’t a hedge trimmer I can’t master or a printer I can’t configure.  Dingo Girl did a lot of work too!  There were squirrels to chase, sticks to fetch, naps to take, and bellies to be rubbed.  Now I understand that age-old dog lament: “Rough!”

It wasn’t all work, though.  We made several trips to mecca Target.  There is no Target in New York City, but I heart Target.  I understand why all the zombies head to malls in the George Romero movies.  I know that, when I come back as a zombie, I’m going to Target!  Some people find peace and contentment in church and religious worship.  Target is my church.  The big red Bulls Eye is, to me, more beautiful than stained glass.  When the sliding doors part with their reverent “shuuuush” and bid me enter the over air-conditioned sanctuary, I am at peace.  I am at one with commerce. 

Really, what does religion have that Target doesn’t?  Need peace of mind?  Head to the pharmacy for some Valium and Ativan.  Need cleansing?  Soap is in aisle six.  Food for the soul?  Can’t see your way in this world?  There’s a Starbucks and optical center.  If you are one of the fortunate few who lives near a Target Greatland, send me your address.  I’m coming for a visit.

Returning home proved to be the only downside of our pilgrimages to the holy city.  Odd Boy always awaited us as we pulled into the driveway.  Determined that my dedication to Animal Planet would do me some good, I advised Mom to just sit still.  “He can’t see you unless you move and his memories are only two minutes long.  He’ll go away.  Just. Don’t. Breathe.” It never worked.  Mom would get blue in the face and I would start blacking out just as Odd Boy tapped on the car window, “Is there a dog in there?”

The last time I saw Odd Boy, he was particularly brilliant.  As Dingo Girl circled the bags to see what we had brought her (Woofhoo!  Target has doggie toys!), Odd Boy came up with this astute observation:

Odd Boy:  Did you ever notice how owners look like their dogs?

Me:  Are you saying that I look like a dog?

Odd Boy:  I’m just saying that dogs and their owners look alike.

Me:  Exactly what about me looks like a dog?

Odd Boy:  People go into the pet store, they see a dog that looks like them and they say, ‘That’s the dog I want.  It looks like me.’

Now I happen to think that Dingo Girl is the cutest thing evah but I don’t think that is what he was getting at. 

Once we got inside, I pulled up some pictures from last summer on my laptop.  It was Dingo Girl’s first trip to the beach.

Here’s me:

Here’s Dingo Girl:

I don’t see a resemblance at all.  Do you?  No, Odd Boy is just odd.

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