writing-doodle - day 5 - word count 435

So, it isn't as long as I'd like, but it is something.  And I do have 25 more days to go.  Right? Or is that write?

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"When I die, I want to come back as your dog," said the curvaceous blond.  She eyed my cart, complete with wee small dog riding in the basket, and sighed.  "You must love her a lot."


That Hazel was wearing a neon pink collar complete with rhinestone embellishments was probably a hint that I wasn't in charge of the dress code.  It hadn't been my intention to buy the monstrosity, but when the cart sailed past it, she snatched the collar from the display and proceeded to eat sections of the nylon webbing.  You eat it, you buy it.  At least onlookers would know she was a girl.

Instead of telling the hottie I was ambivalent to taking on the responsibility for another life, I figured I'd ask her opinion.  "Do you have any recommendations to dog food? I don't think I have the right one." I had quizzed the pimple faced dweeb in the dry food aisle for twenty minutes before I tuned him out.  I had six small bags of a wide variety of food for the dog to try.  I hated eating the same thing every day, so Hazel probably wouldn't be too excited by it either. "She's new."

Those words should never have escaped my lips.  Time and effort that might have gone to getting her number or even just her name was now diverted to the squirming life form in the cart.  Shit.

"Can I pet her?" As she asked the words, she petted Hazel on her chest and rubbed her torso. "She is so sweet.  How old?"

Forty-five for all I know. "According to the vet, she's between six and eight months old."

"So you've missed baby teeth.  Lucky you. Baby teeth are like little razors."  

"What she has is sharp enough."  I attempted to scratch the back of her head, but Hazel was much more fascinated with my fingers and thought they'd make a great mid afternoon snack. It took everything I had not to flinch and swear when she bit down hard on my palm.  "I should probably find an obedience class for her."

She winked at me and said, "I actually do some dog training." She slipped a dayglow orange business card from her back pocket and said, "It's all about patience and discipline."

"She probably needs some discipline."

"I'm talking about you.  You need to be concise, precise, consistent, and firm."

Interesting.

"And I can teach you all of that.  Just give me a call. I'm always available to help new masters learn the ropes."

"Sure, but what's your name? I'm Gabe." I said.

"Heidi.  

writing doodle - day 4 - word count 0

So today escaped - no chance to write without waking someone else.

But am making an effort to at least post daily so I don't appear to be a total slug.

Enjoy the blond, he is blond, isn't he?

writing doodle - day 3 - word count 687

This is sort of like starting a diesel engine that hasn't been running for a while.  Once I really hit my stride (and it isn't too far away), we'll be on 3000 word days.  Plus, right now the goal is to be consistent - not perfect.

~~~

blonds soon - I swaear

I counted each of my fingers to ensure they were all still attached.  Probably better to break up the burger and let her eat it from the carseat.  It's leather, it'll clean; my fingers won't grow back on their own.

We headed toward the county animal control office to see if she were chipped.  It would be the fastest and easiest way to get her home.  If not, I'd spend the day plastering the neighborhood with her mug shot and a blurb about how to find me.  There's a very distinct reason I don't like former girlfriends or dates to find me; for years I preferred serial monogamy over the white picket fence kind of monogamy.  More than one of the fore mentioned girlfriends didn't take it well to find out that my typical recovery time was about three days; if they suffered, they wanted me to suffer or at least play along with a similar charade. Then there would be the newspapers, Craigslist, and other internet sites to reunite dog and owner.  

It wasn't that I am not detail oriented.  Sober I'm fabulous.  Hungover?  Not so fabulous.  I gave up drinking for personal reasons when I was twenty-five, it had nothing to do with rampant over consumption.  Last night when I fell off the wagon, I really fell off.  Too bad I forgot just how much my head hurt the morning after.

Turned out that she was registered to a Jesus Martinez at the Riverdale Senior Living Facility.  And, yep, she had been registered under the name Jesse's Girl.  There was no answer when I called, so thought it might be a great idea to deliver her as a surprise.

I hadn't even entered the complex before I was stopped by the security guard.

"Who are you here to visit?" she asked.

"I was hoping to see Mr. Martinez.  Jesus Martinez," I said.  I reached behind my seat and patted the dog's head.  "I've got a surprise for him."

She consulted a sheet of paper and scowled.  "Are you family? Mister - what did you say your name was?"

"I'm Gabriel Adler. And no, I'm not family. I think I found his dog last night." I unbuckled my seatbelt and attempted to reach for my wallet.

"Ah, you found Hazel," she said.  "Is she with you?  Can I see her?"

So she had a name.  Hazel.  A little old fashioned, but nice.

She reached a hand through the backseat and fondled the dog's ears and scratched her chest.  "Hey, little girl.  I've missed you.  Such a sweetie," she said.  She returned to her place in the guard station and said, "Mr. Martinez passed away three days ago.  She was his only family at the end."

"So she's an orphan now? Do you want her?"

"I can't take her, I live in a cramped apartment.  And there aren't supposed to be any animals here.  Mr. Martinez was a long time resident and they made an exception for him."

Great.

"You aren't going to turn her over to the pound are you?" she asked. "I mean, she's sweet and gentle, and since she's pregnant, they won't want her."

Pregnant?  

"What?"

"Pregnant.  Expecting puppies.  Didn't you notice how swollen her belly was?"

Even better.  Now I had a young, pregnant puppy whose owner had died.  Nieves was going to shit a brick or become broody herself.  Manny was going to kill me.

"Fuck."

"She escaped a couple of months ago when she went into heat.  So, yeah, that about covers it. Look, you need to go.  There's a line behind you.  Saturday is a big visiting day around here."

Here's your hat.  What's your hurry? "Thanks."

I've spent my adult life avoiding the pregnant, broody, breeding type.  As soon as any woman ever made mention of babies, I was gone.  Harry Houdini of commitment. Wouldn't my former in-laws laugh their asses off now?  I had a pregnant female under my charge that I didn't know and was now totally responsible for.

"Hazel, looks like it's going to be you and me, kid.  How do you feel about onion rings?"

~~~
total word count 687

writing doodle - day 2 total word count: 288

Author's note: I thought I'd get this out of the way ... sometimes the carrot has to come before the stick.

NNNM nominees welcome.

~~~

Old Hallmark and long distance commercials used to be about love, connection, and that special something.  My life is much easier.  My current love connection was made over fast food hamburgers in my car on the way to a shelter to find out if Jesse's Girl had been micro-chipped.  I don't indulge in junk food often, but there was no telling the last time the dog had been fed and the only food I had in the house was coffee and Ramen noodles. Despite my lack of experience with pets, even I know that protein is king, and evidently grease is the crowning glory of the king.

No sooner had I pulled into the drive through than she took the short leap across the console, into my arms, and stuck her nose out the window.   Enthusiastic?  Not at all. The little thing licked the window, my nose, back to the window.

I returned her to the backseat before I lowered the window to pay for our order.  No sooner had I put the car into drive, than she was back in the front, nose in bag.  I found and headed for the first shady parking spot I could find, put the car in park, and opened the bag for my companion.  

"Let's see, one kid's burger, hold the condiments," I said.  "That must be yours. The two bacon cheeseburgers are mine." I dipped my hand into the bag and withdrew her burger, folded back the paper, and pinched a small amount of burger from the whole.  

She didn't so much eat as inhale.  Neither my vacuum nor ex-girlfriend could match her sucking ability.  The second attempt executed identically left me counting fingers.  Poor thing must have been starving.

~~~
total word count 288
yes this is a slow start - but progress will be made in the morning, promise.

writing doodle - introduction 4 - April Nano Project word count: 384

Please Note:  Today is the first day of Camp NaNo - once again the goal is 50K in one month. I am attempting an outline and will try to stick with it.  When I fail, I plan to pull a tarot card for inspiration and/or a writing prompt.  (this blurb does not count toward word count total)

Also, in the spirit of much writing and searching for inspiration in days gone by, I am thinking of posting NNNM (nearly naked naughty men - for the uninitiated) every time I post ... suggestions are welcome.

~~~

I haven't done the walk of shame since college, and that was only because I had less than a stellar performance in my girlfriend's dorm room.  Since then, I have embraced privacy, larger beds, magnum condoms, and more than one attempt should the first one fall a little short.  This morning if I hadn't been home, it would have been a walk of shame.  The short distance to the bathroom was more of a stagger of shame.

There was precious little I could remember about the night before except for Kaluha drinks.  And now, I could scarcely look myself in the bathroom mirror.  I raked my face with my hand and wondered when, exactly, had it come to this.

For the better part of a decade, blackouts and hangovers were part of the past.  Looks like my past caught up with me.

I glanced back to the bed and took a good look at what had crowded me out of bed and unceremoniously dumped me to the floor.

A dog.

Not that kind of a dog.  An actual dog.  I slept in the same, overcrowded bed, with a dog: big teeth, bad breath, lots of fur, collar, and a tag that read "Jesse's Girl."

I have never met a Jesse.  I am allergic to dogs. I don't invite unknown individuals of any kind into my bed. So how the fuck did a German shepherd puppy end up not only coming home with me, but sleeping with me.  It is something I should have remembered.  My tiny studio apartment is over my best friend's garage and it has enough room for me to change my mind but only if I remember to put things away.

Manny's wife, Nieves, doesn't especially like animals and made a loud statement about no pets when she agreed to rent to me two years ago.  Then again, there were a lot of loud comments about cat fights if there was more than one pussy under her roof.

Cats are a lot like women.  I don't understand either and can't make either of them happy.  As soon as I think I'm doing the right thing, the rules change.  Then there was also also that experience with long fingernails flashing out at me when least expected, applies to both cats and women.

TBC ... word count 384

I never said they'd be perfect, did I?