It’s rained here for some three, maybe four weeks in a row now. Stuck in the Bus, we watch the sky fall, smoking cigarettes and plotting our transition from here to wherever there will be this night. The boy has been staying largely with a family we’ve become very close with, the BareNaked Family, soaking up lots of other kids time and the matriarch of that clan getting her time with a little one around in, as well. We race home from the coffee shop every morning, just down the street from Pecan Grove RV Park where we’ve made our temporary residence, attempting to keep the freezing rain from diluting the steaming black goodness, and smoke more cigarettes. And play together in the Bus while our dog barks unnecessarily at every passing cat, dog, child or leaf.
He’s turning into quite the little shit. Growling, baring teeth at other dogs, and always when he’s on his leash. We’ve taken him to the dog park and he plays lovingly with every other dog there, he even goes as far as to break up fights between large dogs and unfairly disadvantaged smaller guys, nipping and tucking into the larger dogs until they back off. He once, surrounded by three or four other big dogs, just jumped back, whipped his gnarly teeth out and with a quick growl made it clear to the entire dog park pack that Depu T. Dog was no half-shepherd to tangle with.
But wrap a leash around his neck, like city law requires when outside of the dog park, and he goes ballistic. He’s out on a mission and he doesn’t like to be constrained, I guess, because when he can’t get to another passing dog, the display of barking, jumping, growling and panting that goes on makes him look like a rabid beast and we barely have him under control.
We just try and get him up onto a porch and under our picnic table quickly enough to order a few bloody Marys and hope he’s satisfied with a little time outside of the rain.