Monday, March 17, 2008

not unlike a fightin' kind of mood

I've been in a denying kind of mood lately.

Not to be confused with denial, the "denying kind of mood" means actively, consciously, often irrationally (and therefore often against my best interests) saying "Fuck no!"

I'm digging in my heels, randomly, stubbornly, the way our old dog Sophie, a 15-lb cat who masqueraded in this life as a black miniature poodle, used to angle every one of her spindly legs in such a way that she'd suddenly feel 150 lbs at the end of the leash - all because she wasn't done smelling this particular spot and wasn't ready to move yet, thanks, idiot human.*

In my particular case, it means denying everything, good and bad. For example, I have been refusing to go skiing, even in these fine conditions and good weather; I have been turning up my nose at alcohol and coffee; and I have resisted blogging with everything I've got. I don't return phone calls or emails promptly (or ever if I can help it, for no good reason), and I sometimes spend the whole day in my pajamas. It's an ornery sort of mood. Could it be that I am on strike until winter heads out and makes way for spring? It could.

On the positive side, I write to you now with some coffee in a cup next to me, which could signal a shift in the right direction, even though coffee is terrible for me. (My justification: at least I'm sort of switching things up.) This cup is from Japan and has a big bald head on the front of it, and standing on top of the big bald head is a pink poodle creature with Xs for eyes. I just looked for it online to show you but now I see I'll have to photograph it someday and post that instead.

Oh, and my friend CA made me promise that I'd name my new poodle "Department of Justice". I was reading out road signs as possible names for the pup, and I guess "Department of Justice" had a better ring to it than "Maximum 50 km". The conversation went something like this:

CA: Oh my god. Promise me you'll name your dog "Department of Justice". Promise me!

Roo: Really?

CA (more animated than I'd seen him in ages, and grinning widely to show all his terrifying white teeth): You have to do this. PLEASE do this!!

Roo: OK.

CA: Yesssssssss!!!!!!!!

Roo: Why do you always have to get your way, anyway? You are so demanding.

CA: I dunno, white male privilege? Aren't things just coming to me?

: I'll tell you what's coming to you...

etc. etc.

* Her general disdain for humans and other living creatures was legendary. She ate her chow by daintily chewing one kibble at a time; got huge, aggressive dogs ten times her size into submissive poses within seconds of meeting them; and refused to do any tricks, which she was more than smart enough to learn but which she so clearly believed were simply beneath her.


At March 17, 2008 12:48 p.m., Anonymous yo sisto said...

And let us not forget, while on the topic, how she sat, so human-like, upon a chair at the dinner table - how she looked from speaker to speaker as the conversation played out, cocking her head to the side with heightened interest whenever a particularly intelligent remark was made.

At March 17, 2008 12:50 p.m., Anonymous yo sisto said...

DoJ, eh? Kind of like when I was pregnant with #1 and CW refused to take "systems group" off the list of possible names.

At March 18, 2008 1:04 a.m., Blogger debandpete said...

DoJ the DoG. I like it.

At March 21, 2008 3:45 p.m., Anonymous fig said...

Did Elsie ever tell you about the two Doberman Pinschers that patrolled along the front of the cottages at Lake Champlain with Gestapo-like precision? Simon our Basset Hound would freeze, praying for the cloak of invisibility. Elsie referred to these two dogs as Law and Order.


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