Posts Tagged ‘pets’

Fuzzy Wuzzy was not, in spite of the rhymes to the contrary, a bear. In fact he was a breed of dog called a “Newfoundland”-though he had no idea what the hell that meant or what land of any kind, new found or not, had to do with being a dog or a bear. As the summer once again crept across the heat-capturing valleys of Southern California he began to feel a little miffed that his fur hadn’t been trimmed in years. Now, we’re not talking dog years, because then we’d be into double digits as far as Fuzzy Wuzzy knew, but by the reckoning of people he was in fact five years old and as near as he could tell, his unfortunate name was the sole reason he had never received so much as a trim.

Fuzzy sat at the end of a long leash looped around the leg of a small chair at a sidewalk cafe. His owner, a singularly annoying woman called Missy, sipped a maple-scented black beverage from a small cup, her pinky finger extended into the air aristocratically. Fuzzy loved his sweet master, for she always snuggled him and fed him and let him sleep at the foot of her bed, where he felt most of the time like he belonged. On occasion she would kick him straight off the bed in her sleep, but Fuzzy always knew that when he awoke sore and disoriented on the floor it was not a fact caused by any meaningful malice by his owner. No, Fuzzy Wuzzy was loved.

So as the sun crept over the buildings across the street and began to warm the front of the sidewalk cafe, Fuzzy began to feel hot. His owner continued to sip the black liquid and in fact asked the waiter to bring her another while she gabbed away to the little pink, glitter-covered rectangle in her hand. Fuzzy had never figured out what was so interesting about this little rectangle that Missy would want to talk to it so much, but talk she did, and Fuzzy just panted away as sweat began to make the fur on his head droop down into his eyes. Read the rest of this entry »