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The Dog Catcher

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The door slammed and her words rang. He sat there on his couch, staring at the cooling, dimming TV. He saw his reflection there. The bulge of his stomach. The stains on his t-shirt. The five day stubble that hurt to shave.

She had left, calling him a loser. Telling him that she had fallen out of love with him. That he had no direction. Nowhere to go. His heart ached. Maybe that was his high choleric diet or maybe it was the heartbreak. Who could say. He hadn’t been to a doctor in years.

He sat there for a long time. He took a deep breath. He thought about getting up and going to his fridge and getting a beer. He thought about ordering a pizza and drowning his sorrows in a night of video games. But the shock to his system was rippling through him. He had lost her because of nights like that. Maybe it was time to change.

He thought about doing some situps or pushups. But his floor was covered in garbage and clothing. He reached an impasse in his life. He could sit and become a fungus on his own catch or he could get up and make a change. He thought about the love that had left his life.

He stood up.

*Years Later*

He sat patiently. He was reading. The day was getting colder. The bowl of dog food was sitting next to him. He had been brining it closer to him every day. Today was the day.

The nose emerged first. The rest of the dog followed. It was a golden retriever and he was in a bad way. His coat was dirty and clogged with barbs and other things. He had been through it. He was someone’s pet, not a wild animal. Above all, he was scared.

The dog came to his side and started eating. When the dog was finished, he licked his chops and looked at him. He held out his hand to the dog and the dog sniffed it. He whined. He went slowly. He put his hand on the dog’s head. He petted him slowly. The dog let out another whine.

“You’ve been through it, haven’t you, girl?” he said. “Think you would like to come home with me?”

The dog let out another long whine.

“Come on,” he said. “My name’s Keith. I think I’ll call you Stella for now. Let’s go.”

He put a harness and leash on Stella. It seemed she wanted to be found by someone. He had developed this kind, slow energy over years of doing his job. He brought the dog to his car and opened the door for her to climb in. He drove a familiar route. He got to the office and helped Stella out. He brought her into the clinic and she was once more fearful. The sounds and smells hitting her all at once. He scratched her behind the ears.

“You’re going to have to be brave,” he said calmly. “C’mon.”

Stella followed him but she was walking quickly. She wanted to be away from this place. He did as she wanted and brought her to a large shower. He leashed her inside and started spraying her with the hose. She started whining once more. He worked the barbs and everything out of her fur. He shampooed and did what he could. He gave her a treat as he dried her off.

“There you go, much better,” he said.

He brought her into a small office and there was a woman there in scrubs and a lab coat. The dog started whining.

“I know, I know,” the woman said. “I’m your nightmare. But I’m here to help. You brought in a beauty, Keith.”

“Yea, this was a pet project I had working on. She was hiding near my house,” he replied.

“Well, let me do my exam and I’ll let you know when she’s done.”

“Thanks, Leslie.”

He went back to his office and did some paperwork. When she messaged him on slack, he got up and walked back to the examination room.

“So, there’s something interesting,” she said.

“What’s that?” Keith asked.

“Look who the owner is.”

A familiar name flashed up on the screen.

“Hunh, that’s funny,” Keith said.

“Turns out her name is Muffins. Do you want to drop her off?” Leslie asked.

“Yeah, I owe her a favor.”

“Really? What?”

“She broke up with me.”

Leslie’s eyes shot up.

“Are you planning to kill her?” Leslie asked.

“What?! No!” Keith replied honestly taken aback.

“Then explain.”

Keith rolled his eyes. He pulled out his phone. He scrolled through an app and while he did so, he absentmindedly pet Muffins. He pulled up a picture and showed it to her.

“That’s what I looked like three years ago when she broke up with me,” Keith said. “The day she did I did the first situp I had done since I got out of high school. I was a fucking loser. Now, I’m in the best shape of my life. I’m happy, I’m healthy and all it took was her stomping my heart. And no, I don’t think we’re going to get back together because I can see that the primary owner is the dude she left me for. So, I want to show my thanks.”

“And possibly find out if the guy she’s dating is a scumbag?” Leslie said.

“Yes… but I’m not hoping for that.”

“I believe you.”

He put a collar and leash on Muffins.

“You should call first,” Leslie said.

“Eh, it’ll be fine,” Keith said. “C’mon girl, let’s go home.”

The drive was long and much happier than the one before. Muffins seemed much happier to be clean and unburdened by dirt. As he followed his GPS, Keith wondered when Muffins would realize she was getting close to home. They passed by a coffee shop and Muffins started whining and barking. He smiled to himself. They turned onto her street and he could see her tail whipping back and forth.

He pulled up in front of a nice little ranch house and she was going nuts. She was trying to get out through the window. He opened the door and came around to where he let her out. She was pulling hard on the leash. He could see how she had gotten away from her owner.

Maybe it was some off hand glance through the window. Some happenstance but the owner had seen his dog coming up the walk being pulled by a handsome animal control worker. He threw the door open and Keith let the leash go. Muffins ran to her father. The man hugged his dog who was licking at his face. He was crying hard enough to shake his body. Keith watched with his back against the door to his car.

There was paperwork to fill out but that could wait. Sometimes the job was heartbreaking when he had to witness the cruelty and sadness for creatures that didn’t understand. Today though, today it felt good.

“Keith?” a voice behind him said.

He turned around and he saw Viv, his ex coming up the street. She had been coming home from a run seemingly. He smiled at her.

“Hey,” he said raising his hand to her.

She was confused looking at him. She looked from him to her front door and saw her dog and boyfriend reunited. She let out a cry, having immediately forgotten about her ex and happy to see her baby. The dog jumped at her. Happy to see her.

Keith watched them for a while before getting his paperwork and clipboard and approaching them. The man stood up and reached out his hand to Keith.

“Thank you, god bless you,” the man said. “Who found her?”

“I did,” Keith said. “She was hiding in a bush near my house. I saw her going through the garbage and followed her to her hiding place. I’ve been trying to get her to trust me for the last week.”

“She ran off on me while we were on a walk,” Viv said.

“She’s very strong.”

“Yeah, is that paperwork to fill out?” the man asked.

“Yeah, I figured you’re her owner, Bruce, based on what we got but I just need to make it official. Can I see your ID?”

“Yea, let me just run in and get it.”

He left the two alone and Muffins ran into the house with him. Keith smiled into the awkward silence between them.

“You look good,” Viv said.

“Thanks,” Keith said. “So do you.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way, you broke up with me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s the wrong way the apology should go. I made you miserable for years. You were so patient with me. I was blind and such an asshole.”

“You were.”

“So, yeah, I’m sorry. You deserved better and looks like you found it.”

“He’s great.”

“His dog loves him. That’s enough to tell me what kind of person he is. Are you happy?”

“I’m so happy.”

“Good.”

He smiled contentedly. Bruce came walking up and handed off his license to Keith. Keith took down the information.

“There we go,” Keith said. “Glad to help.”

“Am I allowed to give you like a tip or anything like that?” Bruce asked.

“It’s frowned upon.”

“By the way, you two seem to know each other.”

“We’re just old friends, my name’s Keith.”

“Oh… wait, that Keith?”

Keith let out a laugh.

“Yeah, I’m the ex,” Keith said.

“You’re not what I was expecting,” Bruce said.

“I’m sure every story you heard about me was true. I spent the last three years trying to be less of a waste of space. That’s how I got this job!”

“Are you happy?” Viv asked.

“Very much so,” Keith replied with a warm smile.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Bruce asked.

“Think I’m trying to steal her back?”

“Nah, I have a friend whose single. Maybe I could give her your number?”

“Which friend?” Viv said.

“Tanya,” Bruce replied.

“You are not inflicting Tanya on him.”

“I’m just saying…”

Keith held up his hand.

“I’m good,” Keith said. “I’m happy.”

He took the two in for a moment.

“And I’m happy that you two are happy as well,” Keith said. “I have to get back to it. You two have a good one.”

He gave them a brief nod and when he saw Muffins wagging through the glass door, he gave her a two fingered salute. He climbed back into his car and drove off.

Leslie noticed him humming throughout the rest of the day. She didn’t ask. Didn’t want to make him question his happiness.

A week or so later, he got a text from Viv. It was asking if he would want to go out with them for a drink. He smiled at his phone. He started texting back.

Weird Fear of Failure

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I had a conversation with my therapist about why I continually consume the same media, which is stuff I’ve seen before and police bodycam videos like those put out by Boze vs. the World. I don’t watch normal TV shows or movies all that often except when I see something that really interests me. Admittedly, I know this seems a little strange because I watch new things every week for Teen Girl Talk but those feel more like a job than something I do for pleasure. Despite the fact that I love doing Teen Girl Talk? It’s the obligation that pushes me to do it.

Now, as my career in attending therapy has reached the American voting age, I’ve learned to constantly think about things and the reason I think the things I think. So, I had been chewing on why I didn’t encounter the new that often. And it came down I’m afraid of failing. At watching TV. That makes sense.

Of course it doesn’t, that’s the problem with depression and anxiety. They hardly make sense. So, we have to figure out the stupid logic behind it.

For this particular thing I was able to think back to when I was a young concert attending kid. I would discover a new band, fall in love and do whatever I could to discover everything about them. I had to hear every song. Every demo. Everything. If I couldn’t do that, I wouldn’t get into the band. Thus, for bands with big discographies, I’ve kept myself away knowing that I could never quite “finish” with the band.

It follows the same thing about movies and TV shows. Movies less so because so many of them are solo projects unless it’s the Jason movies. But with TV shows, I keep thinking that I have to watch everything. If I start something, I have to finish it. For some Netflix shows that’s easy because Netflix just gave up. But for others like Star Trek, those feel like behemoths. I’ll never be able to finish all of it.

My therapist challenged me on this, why do I have to? If I like something, I can watch it as I want. If I don’t like it, I can just stop. She wants me to start watching something and stop after ten minutes. That doesn’t feel quite the solution but it does lead me to do something else. To get out and try. Even if I don’t hear every scary story in a horror podcast that’s been running for years, I can at least try something new.

That was kind of the whole point of doing the one hundred albums in a year was to break me out of this mindset. To push me to keep doing something new and discovering other things. The fact of the matter is when I find something new, I feel good. I can’t let the fear keep me from that feeling because it, like the anxiety and depression that spawn it, only survive when I feed them. Time to make them starve.

Update on the little man

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It’s been hard to not make this blog solely about this little man. I’m obsessed with him and he’s just kind of middling on me. There are updates.

The main thing that I knew about former feral cats is that you have to take your time with them. I’ve been doing so, every morning, I spend an hour just quietly being in his presence while he sits in his cat tree. I got some churus and put them on a plate to draw him closer to me. I don’t reach out yet because I’m sure that would freak him out. But he is now willing to eat the churu in front of me within inches of me.

I took him to the vet on Monday and I can’t be sure if I told them that he was a feral but I do remember asking for Gabapentin. I had prepared myself for getting him into the carrier by putting on safety goggles, gloves, a hooded sweatshirt and a scarf over my mouth. Turns out I didn’t need all of that as after not feeding him for an extra three hours, he was desperate to get at his food, which was in the carrier. I snuck up on him and closed the door.

I brought him to the vet, he got taken back and I was brought to see him after five minutes. Turns out he was buck wild in the room, running around, hissing and being scared. The vet though was a champ and offered me a later appointment that day where they would sedate him so they could examine him. Turns out he’s in perfect health with good teeth, clean ears, good weight, clean coat, no flea dirt, clear eyes, full heart, can’t lose.

That brings me to the other thing that’s happened, in which on Thanksgiving, I came home to find out that he had vomited worms on the carpet. It was gross but beneficial that I was able to tell something was wrong. He has to take a powder in his food for the next few days to clear them. This is the benefit of having a cat that lived in the trash. He will eat anything that I put in front of him. He’s two doses down and hopefully he’ll start shitting worms.

I’ve also bought him a pheromone diffuser and that’s calmed him some, so that feels good.

In conclusion, I think that he has the makings of being a snuggle bunny. I think that the main thing is to have patience and give him time. I revel in the little victories like yesterday where unprompted he hopped on the couch with me. He didn’t stay long but it was still more than he had done in the last thirty days. I love him so much and even if we end up being roommates and not best buds, I’ll love him anyway. He’s my little man and nothing will change that.

The Duality of Maturity

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That comic is from xkcd.com and it has been my guiding star for a long time now. It has always been a difficult thing for me to consider whether or not I’m an adult. In all truthfulness, I nearly wrote grownup instead of adult.

This has worked for me for the longest time. It makes sense. I’m not my parents nor is anyone I know. Older generations are against therapy, I’ve been in therapy since I was twenty-one and I will be probably for the rest of my life(that’s not a bad thing. I think that therapy isn’t a punishment it’s a release valve). So, I can do things that are silly and that other people consider stupid but it’s my life so who cares.

When I think about the milestones, I haven’t hit, house, wife, kids and the whole nine yards. I find myself not caring. I don’t need a house to maintain. I don’t need kids to continue my legacy. A wife, a partner, a friend might be nice but I’m happy alone.

But still when I was younger, I was told that that this was what was expected of me. This is what we do. My parents didn’t force me into it and my mom has never asked me when are you going to give me grandkids but you still can feel the pressure from other people. They say things like “when you’re married someday” or “you’ll understand when you have kids”. I just don’t care.

I’m getting off track. The concept I came up with was: immature in thoughts, mature in actions. Let me give you an example of my thoughts throughout the day:

I wonder if the convertible Kennedy died in was a transformer. How would he react to Kennedy getting shot? What if it was the same car as the one that Jack and Rose boinked in during the Titanic movie.

I need to eat better for my blood pressure. Should I look up soups?

Brian from Hatchet would be a good Animorph. I should write that fanfiction.

Gotta look up CD rates for my bonus. I should put some money away.

Gotta think of what to get for the kids that I’m doing secret Santa for, for my friend’s school.

I’d be a great sixth ranger but I’d be bad at being Tuxedo Mask.

I’ve never missed a rent or utilities payment. I clean my apartment every weekend. Even as a child, I remember seeing a child throwing a tantrum and thought to myself in much more childish terms: “that is unseemly and I shan’t be doing that”.

What I’m getting at is that interests can be childish and immature but as long as I keep up everything else it’s fine. I do the duties of an adult while indulging the child that I once was. Part of that means watching non-childish shows and what not, which is why I’m getting into Star Trek but also watch other movies. I also make sure I don’t buy everything I want to indulge that child either.

I’m not ashamed of the person I am. I like being me, I like the well of knowledge I dive into when I need a reference is deep not just for old Power Ranger episodes but for songs that have broken my heart since I was a teen. I also have emotional maturity to understand the feelings I have and what to do with them(thanks, therapy). Since my father died, I’ve become the “I don’t know how to deal with the fear of my parents dying let me talk to Frank” guy. To that end, my sister and I have made a pledge that we wouldn’t raise our voices to have a discussion.

If I wasn’t any of those things, I feel it would be a reason for introspection. Even being one all of those things I know I still need to look inward continuously to make sure that I’m on the right path(thanks again, therapy). For right now, I’m going to enjoy my hard fought for contentment and make myself a salad for dinner.

Then I’m going to watch Card Captor Sakura and pay my bills. Because…

The First Book I Loved

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I don’t know why this book popped into my head. My thoughts often come at random and without any guidance. I think one of those thoughts was: Brian from the book Hatchet would make a great Animorph. That’s not what I’m going to be talking about in this article but it’s important to tell people where you came from.

Hatchet by Gary Paulsen was a book that resonated with me for some reason. I read it and wanted so badly to be living in the woods by myself with my wits keeping me from starving. As an adult, my heart breaks for that poor boy. He was only about thirteen(same age as the Animorphs) and he had so much happen to him. It’s the same thing like being Batman or Spider-Man, the life itself seems super fun. You don’t consider the implications that that life comes from unbearable loss.

For those that don’t know the book, Brian is given the titular hatchet by his mother because he’s flying out in a small Cessna plane to visit his father on an oil rig. During the flight, the pilot has a heart attack and dies leaving Brian alone. He crashes the plane in the L-shaped lake and swims to shore. The only thing he has are his clothes and his hatchet. He then has to survive in the wilderness and let me see how many trials I can think of that he had to go through: nausea from “gut cherries”, learning how to fish, creating fire, dealing with swarms of mosquitoes, bears, a tornado, nearly drowning in the lake when previously mentioned tornado drags the ship out of the lake and having to dive deep into the water to get his dropped hatchet. Let me head to wikipedia and check… oh I thought the skunk was only in Brian’s Winter but he has to deal with that, along with a bull moose, a pack of wolves and porcupine.

In the original ending, he gets rescued at the end of summer. In the new canonical ending, he has to survive through a Canadian winter because many fans pointed out to the author, that’s the true test. I had read the sequel, the River, which I didn’t like that much. I thought that the premise wasn’t that strong. It had nothing to do with the writing, Gary Paulsen is a master of the form. I’m reading through Brian’s Return and it still brought that same spark as when I read the original.

I’m trying to figure out why that spark hit. Maybe like your first kiss, your first love and all other things, nothing hits like that first one. Well, I think when it comes to kissing it comes down to your first good kiss. There are terrible kisses and you get to decide which ones truly count.

I think that if I didn’t love this book I wouldn’t have fallen in love with some of the other books that I’ve loved down the line. The Lord of the Rings, with its similar breathtaking descriptions of beautifully wild scenery. Animorphs, the idea of young people having to overcome adversity that they never should have to face.

And finally, my favorite book, Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier. Both books feature men in the wilderness though Inman has to deal with the press of humanity despite his best efforts. They also harken back to an older time and a deep respect for the native Americans while subtly noting the terrible things this country has done to them. They’re also just plain beautifully written. I wish I was as good as either of those men.

I read that book more than thirty years ago. I’m older now. I go for walks in the woods. I own a hatchet though I’ve never used it the way Brian has and probably never will. But when I’m in those woods, Brian walks with me. I don’t know if Gary Paulsen knew how important this book would be for me and others who have read that book. I hope he did.

RIP Gary, I hope on the other side you’re in a canoe floating down a river. The blue sky over your head endlessly and a smile on your face. From the deepest part of my heart, thank you.

A story based on the news

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Someone put a tramp stamp on the Mothman statue in Point Pleasant, WV

It was early morning when the townspeople of Point Pleasant, West Virginia came out onto the streets. As usual, several of them said hello to the glittering six packed, caked up mothman statue in their town square. The local manager of the Piggly Wiggly, Stan Kelsin though noticed something strange. All along the back of mothman right above his beautiful sculpted ass someone had graffitied it with what looked like a tribal tattoo.

“Who would do such a thing?” he wondered.

He walked to his store, he opened up and came back with soap and water in a bucket. He set to work wiping it off. A feeling of hometown pride swelling in his heart.

From a distance, the mothman watched as the man undid his handiwork. He would have to make the tattoo on his statue permanent like the one on his body. He had already tried putting a cowboy hat on it last week but they had gotten rid of that too. He tipped his hat to them and took flight.

Predator: Badlands Review

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The Predator movies have always been goofy as fuck. I mean, who could forget this?

That’s dumb in the best way. Now, I’ve seen a lot of people online pointing out how much they hate the new predator movie for the fact that it has comedy and features *gasp* a woman as an actual character! You know what I have to say to that? Those people hate fun. Remember that? Fun? That thing we desperately need more of in this world?

I’m a casual predator fan to be fair. I haven’t read the vast amount of comics where they fight just about everyone in the universe. Especially the multiple times he went up against Archie and didn’t win.

Our plot concerns with the runt rookie predator, Dek, seeing his father kill his brother and swearing revenge. To do so, he has to prove himself and thus arrives on a planet known for its lethality, Genna. There he meets Thia, played by the wonderful Elle Fanning, a bright and cheerful android who has lost her legs. Dek straps her to his back and she spends her time bouncing bright and sunny dialogue off of the misanthropic and brunt Dek. Their interactions are all amazing, you can feel the chemistry despite the CGI. Dek is trying to kill this beast the Kalisk, which is known for its immortality.

I was riveted the entire time. The movie balances the darker parts of Dek watching his brother die with the more comedic moments throughout the rest of the movie. The action sequences are imaginative and fun. The planet feels alive and like it actually works, which is something that most alien worlds don’t. I still remember in the first J. J. Abrams’ Star Trek movie where Kirk lands on an ice planet and gets immediately attacked by two horrible monsters. But then old Spock and him are able to walk across the planet without incident.

Mike and Kevin from Rifftrax summed it up:

Mike: Man, I’m sure glad we didn’t run into any wolf things or horrible bug monsters.

Kevin: Based on how quickly I ran into both of them initially I thought this planet was crawling with them.

Mike: I know right, apparently not.

It also feels like it could be a legitimate threat to the predators.

To sum it up, go check out this movie. It’s super fun and really well made. Everyone is giving it their all and it’s just a good time. I’ll be telling you about Running Man next week.

Putting up numbers on the board

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I’ve been writing for what will be twenty-seven years next February.

I worked in pharmacy for twenty years.

It’s a strange thing looking at those numbers. When I was younger, I met people who would describe the businesses or occupations they were in, in this way. It was insane to me that anyone could do anything like that for this long.

And now I’m one of those older people. I’m going to be forty next year. I’m looking back at half a life time in pharmacy and more than half a lifetime pursuing the dream of becoming a writer. The closest I got was someone asking me to give them an extra thirty pages of one of my manuscripts.

So, do I look back at those years with regret?

Not in the slightest.

It would be easy to do so. I’m not rich in a financial sense. I’m not a writer in the acknowledged sense of someone offering me money for my works except for the time I got twenty-five bucks for selling a story where Teddy Roosevelt had sex with a male yeti.

(You can do that by buying my book of horror short stories here: https://books2read.com/u/3nJPzP my plugs are nothing if not shameless)

The reason I don’t have any regrets is because in those time periods I haven’t wasted my life. I have loved two women with everything I had. Kissed a fair more than that. I have climbed mountains and seen both shores of this great land. I’ve eaten delicious meals and made some too. I’ve laughed to the point that it hurt and erased hurts of the past with my friends. I have felt loss so deep that it scars my soul.

See, defining yourself by the money you earned or the time you spent doing a certain thing, it erases everything else. It makes it sound like you’re a robot in a tube waiting to go back to work. It’s just a piece of everything. All those other things are what make me who I am. And I’m proud of them.

Now that I’ve written this out, I look back at the times people have told me who they are and I didn’t ask followup questions. I should have been more curious and tried to round out the person I was talking to. I still have a fair time on this world, hopefully. I’m going to take that lesson with me and be more curious.