Dogs, books, sleeping arrangements
WE HAD to give Bailey, the cocker spaniel, away. Dear spouse had a latelife allergy to fur and dog dander. That made me breathe easier. Because I really like being naked inside the house.
Being naked inside the house everyday gives me the confidence to be naked everywhere.
I am very comfortable being naked.
I suspect that I am a pathological nudist.
***
What is certain is that I am a voracious reader.
So I am not happy that the family’s Belgian Malinois ate the novel I was reading.
I was already in Chapter 5 of nine chapters.
***
How did it happen? Because of the heat and the brownouts, I sleep under the stars. Well, and in the rain, too. There’s a bamboo cottage on top of PRIMA CT, the ancestral house. I don’t use it.
Rather, I have a bamboo bed placed right under the stars.
I read there in the morning, and for a few hours before I sleep.
***
There is also my studio in the rooftop of PRIMA CT.
But right now, it’s like the storage for my balikbayan boxes containing my things from the US.
I can sleep in my studio. There’s a toilet and bathroom. But I don’t really use it.
***
The Belgian is caged behind the bamboo cottage.
And sometimes, he gets loose. Like in the middle of the night. This is not my dog.
If at all, this is my brother’s dog. And I feel that the dog was trained to kill me.
He barks nastily when I come up to my studio late at night.
***
His barks are even stronger and fiercer when I have company.
Even if such company only wants to make love to me.
So anyway, this dog sort of limits my sex life.
I hate this dog.
Why do I have to go to the city, or out of town, to enjoy sex with someone other than myself?
***
So one night, the Belgian got out of his cage.
He ran to my bamboo bed under the stars, and began sniffing me. I pretended to be dead.
And then, he climbed on my bed, and started licking my neck.
I was afraid it would bite me a la Dracula.
So I got up, and rushed inside my
studio.
I left my pillows and the book I was reading on the bamboo bed.
And that son of a bitch (literally) was barking through my glass door until morning.
***
I waited half an hour for him to clear, but he didn’t budge.
So I slept without a pillow, and with the book left in his side of the glass door.
In the early morning, the stupid dog was back in his cage.
I got the pillow, but I couldn’t find the book.
***
I went back to sleep, and when I got up for the day, I saw less than 10% of the book, chewed and ripped by an animal.
Obviously, that would have been the dog.
Stupid dog!
Books are for reading, not eating. I j ust hope he doesn’t get indigestion.
It was a P500 book.
New print, not BookSale, not previously owned.
***
My friends tell me I may not be a dog person.
Remember— two puppies died on me last December.
I do not know why dogs, in general, do not like me.
They bark at me like they want to kill me.
I sometimes bark back at them to confuse them.
I often win.
And when I’m cornered, I beat them with sticks, or throw stones at them.
***
Can the dogs smell dogs on me? I mean, I was a dog-eater when I was a child.
And since coming home last August, I was served askals cooked a la caldereta in drinking sprees… … at least three times!
I don’t shy from eating all sorts of animals.
And yeah, I eat dog meat if it’s the only food you can offer me. ***
These days, I prefer goat meat. After all the chicken and pork and beef of fiestas, I rather enjoy fish.
And if goat meat is available, I’ll take some of that, too.
But I will not say no to an occasional Belgian Malinois./