It's Time for the Wednesday Morning Open Thread

    A couple of years ago: A brindle boxer on a crowded corner stopped in his tracks, singled me out, and dragged his tiny owner away from crossing the street so he could get some scritches from me. Rolled around and showed me his belly. Owner was apologetic, some passersby were like AWWW but more were like I've got places to be do you know who I am get off the street ya dog lovin' bums. 

This is a dog

    Late aughts: I was at the local video store, crouched down to peruse the lower shelves, when a greyhound stopped in his tracks and stuck his head under my arm. He was stressed out. The owner fostered rescue greyhounds, and this guy wasn't used to being surrounded by so many people and wanted to hide. Petted him for a while and forgot what I was doing. First daughter was around two, and my brain was broken, so I checked out Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix for the third time, thinking we hadn't seen it before. I could blame the dog, but he was sweet and without sin, a very good dog doing his very best. God, I hate that movie. That movie that I've watched four times now but only once on purpose.

This is a dog

    Early nineties: At a club called Red Dawg or Redd Dogg or Dead Rog, whatever it's called, probably something else the very next week. I stepped outside to get some air (i.e. smoke a cigarette) and discreetly dispose of a phone number. It was a harrowing night, but then every night at a club is. This was way worse than usual though. I was escaping from someone I'd accidentally felt up. I was reaching for the booth behind me and didn't know she was there. So there I was, looking at a small blond who's looking at my right hand cupping her left boob. I stammered my apologies, but she just laughed and said, "Aw, that's all right, honey!" and danced suggestive grinding dances a couple feet from me for a very long time. Outside I sat on the steps trying to erase the last thirty minutes of my life when a woman with a bulldog walked by. The dog stopped and laid his head on my feet and wouldn't budge. I proceeded to squish that adorable monster face while he licked my hands until his owner decided it was time to go. Lovely consensual petting for what ails ya, and doggy slobber made the phone digits illegible*. Good dog.

This is a dog

    Late nineties: On Inishmore off the coast of Galway. Ireland hadn't had a case of rabies in decades so dogs and cats roam free. There we met Ollie, a medium black and white mutt, as soon as we disembarked from the ferry and he walked with us like we were old friends to our hostel (Mainistir House but it sounded like "Monster House" to my ears and elicited an enthusiastic "Yes! I want to go to the hostile monster house please," from me), but looked back at us impatiently when we started unloading our gear. We said thanks and good night to him and he growled at us and his edges started to shimmer. He snorted as his shape changed to that of a large black horse with glowing blue eyes. He became more indistinct, into something shadowy and manlike, his eyes catching fire, like fwoosh! fwoosh! sizzle crackle! 

    He said, "Aye. And this is how ye thank me, eh, gasol! Know that to offend me, ye offend the Queen of all the Fae and her minions also!" 

    "We're American!" I yelled as he rose into the air and vanished, fireflies and oak leaves swirling although it was too cold for fireflies and there were no oak trees there, the smell of a cookfire nearby. Mainistir House was gone. We had passed it miles ago, in fact, and were terribly close to the edge of a roiling, roaring sea. Where Ollie had been were the cliffs at Dun Aengus, and had we followed him, we would have fallen to our certain deaths!

This is Dún Aonghasa, the Bronze Age fort falling into the sea

    But my spouse doesn't remember it that way at all. She says we had a lovely time, but I wouldn't trust her. She hits the crack pipe pretty hard. 

This is Sparta

*****

⭐️GOOD MORNING, BACKTALK⭐️

*****

* Yes, she gave me her number which I hadn't asked for. Ugh. Can you imagine being known as that guy who pretends to grope women accidentally as a pickup move? I can, and think about it way too often. I wasn't a club kid but many of my friends were so I went to lots of clubs and parties. Would have reminded me of Party Girl, had that movie existed at the time, minus the Hot Lebanese Falafel Vendor of course, and I've always had a deep respect for the Dewey Decimal System. Had a book with me most of the time but strobing lights and thumping bass made it difficult to read. Also, I had short platinum blond hair at the time, if you can picture it. Say, I'm beginning to suspect maybe this post wasn't about dogs at all... 

This is Parker Posey