Monday, February 10, 2014


One day in and some commenter is already sniping at Robert. Why he's already appropriated the best rocking chair and aimed it the corner, rock, rock, rock. He's also got the TV on the railing and tuned it to the Olympics, muttering under his breath about NBC.

Fortunately, I don't have to worry about it. The official RFL Entourage is also here. Mrs. Pat is obviously in charge of everything but me, which is amazing given that the star of the Entourage (I'm not given to overcapitalization, but you should see this circus...) is a horse-sized dog named Raebert who has already taken my bed as his lie down spot. There's also a hundred year old greyhound, a 50 year old pug, a pair of feral cats who weigh more than any four cats should, an orange cat who just killed the neighbor's pit bull, and a Bengal tiger who scared away the bear I've been trying to befriend with spilled garbage. The tiger weighs a solid seven pounds, which I can attest because she walked up my right arm, over my head, and down my left arm without actually acknowledging me.

Robert's watching the Olympics with the sound off. He always did have great concentration. But here's what's funny. When he reacts with, say, a smile, at something Olympic, it doesn't matter where Mrs. Pat is. She smiles too. It's a duplex connection. When she frowns at the tiger for climbing up the one drape I have left, Robert frowns at the Olympics. They're hard-wired wifi style. Never seen anything like it.

Did I tell you how large their big dog is? He's huge. Enormous. Truthfully, there isn't a big enough word for how absolutely humongous this guy Raebert is. But I think he likes me. When I gave him a head fake to tell him to get off my bed he just groaned and left. Mrs. Pat tells me that's respect.

Of course, I'm Johnny Dodge. Which Mrs. Pat replied to without me putting it into words. "Yes," she said. "You most definitely are."

That Robert is a lucky man. Yes, he definitely is. If the tiger doesn't kill and eat the rest of the neighborhood, I think we're going to be okay here. At the Last Chance Garage.

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