Self-portrait outside the AVAM.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Dog Whisperer
One of our neighbors has a vicious little Jack Russell terrier. I know what you're thinking: "I can imagine a bad-tempered Jack Russell. But vicious? Nope. They're too cute and wee to be vicious."
Pooch is vicious. The first time we looked at our new house Pooch's owner L. invited us in. She had to put Pooch into a kennel because the dog got livid, and began snarling and clawing at the floor in an effort to leap up and eat my nose. Because the cacaphony was preventing conversation, L. turned the kennel to face a blank wall. It shook and occasionally bounced as Pooch flung herself back and forth in fury. Cha asked if the Tasmanian Devil was inside.
L. bought blinds for her front windows because Pooch becomes insensate with incandescent rage when she sees passersby. The blinds, a day later, were still hanging in the windows, but Pooch had clawed gigantic holes in them. When you walk past L.'s house you see a trail torn in her blind, and suddenly a demonic batlike face will leap up into the gap, biting at the glass and yowling. I was talking to J. Sunday evening out front and Pooch was frantically jumping and nibbling. L. had locked herself out of the house and the Pop-a-Lock guy was refusing to open the door. "That muthafuckin' piranha is going to tear out my eye!" J. was appalled by the dog's face each time it leapt up and bit furiously at the glass: "That is some vampire looking beast!" When L. drives her car you can see Pooch leaping crazily at pedestrians, bouncing off the interior of the car's windows.
A couple days ago L. was on her stoop and I stopped to chat. Pooch was wagging her tail and leaning against her harness and leash to get at me. I thought: perhaps doggie is making nice? I cautiously approached. I put my hand low down and slowly went forward. I spoke endearing doggie talk. Pooch wagged furiously and got into a playful bowing stance. And once I was within reach she lunged at my neck in rage.
Last night L. dropped by to chat. Yo! Adrienne was over. We all went outside and L. was trying to figure out what to do with Pooch while she travels to North Carolina for four days. No kennel will take her. Nobody will dogsit her. Yo! Adrienne was convinced she could turn Pooch, and despite my warnings about Pooch's deceitful conduct, I watched as she went through the entire tail-wagging, bowing routine, only to snap at Yo! Adrienne's juggler at the last second.
And then I got out some chips. And I fed Pooch a chip. And then I let her climb on me to get a chip. And then I let her walk past me on the leash into the house. She sniffed around. Cha had already offered my services as dog watcher for L., without my knowledge. Cha will be away the next two weeks mentoring teachers. She's fearless about leaving me home with killer dogs. But we decided to do an experiment, and L. went to the store, leaving Pooch behind. Yo! Adrienne and I played with Pooch. I made a chew toy out of an old dish rag, and Pooch went crazy for tug of war. Turns out Pooch is just neurotic and lonely. Within minutes we had belly rubbing and all was well.
So: four months into the new place, and we've already rescued one stray and have babysat two dogs. Looks like I'll have Pooch from Thursday until Sunday.
Pooch is vicious. The first time we looked at our new house Pooch's owner L. invited us in. She had to put Pooch into a kennel because the dog got livid, and began snarling and clawing at the floor in an effort to leap up and eat my nose. Because the cacaphony was preventing conversation, L. turned the kennel to face a blank wall. It shook and occasionally bounced as Pooch flung herself back and forth in fury. Cha asked if the Tasmanian Devil was inside.
L. bought blinds for her front windows because Pooch becomes insensate with incandescent rage when she sees passersby. The blinds, a day later, were still hanging in the windows, but Pooch had clawed gigantic holes in them. When you walk past L.'s house you see a trail torn in her blind, and suddenly a demonic batlike face will leap up into the gap, biting at the glass and yowling. I was talking to J. Sunday evening out front and Pooch was frantically jumping and nibbling. L. had locked herself out of the house and the Pop-a-Lock guy was refusing to open the door. "That muthafuckin' piranha is going to tear out my eye!" J. was appalled by the dog's face each time it leapt up and bit furiously at the glass: "That is some vampire looking beast!" When L. drives her car you can see Pooch leaping crazily at pedestrians, bouncing off the interior of the car's windows.
A couple days ago L. was on her stoop and I stopped to chat. Pooch was wagging her tail and leaning against her harness and leash to get at me. I thought: perhaps doggie is making nice? I cautiously approached. I put my hand low down and slowly went forward. I spoke endearing doggie talk. Pooch wagged furiously and got into a playful bowing stance. And once I was within reach she lunged at my neck in rage.
Last night L. dropped by to chat. Yo! Adrienne was over. We all went outside and L. was trying to figure out what to do with Pooch while she travels to North Carolina for four days. No kennel will take her. Nobody will dogsit her. Yo! Adrienne was convinced she could turn Pooch, and despite my warnings about Pooch's deceitful conduct, I watched as she went through the entire tail-wagging, bowing routine, only to snap at Yo! Adrienne's juggler at the last second.
And then I got out some chips. And I fed Pooch a chip. And then I let her climb on me to get a chip. And then I let her walk past me on the leash into the house. She sniffed around. Cha had already offered my services as dog watcher for L., without my knowledge. Cha will be away the next two weeks mentoring teachers. She's fearless about leaving me home with killer dogs. But we decided to do an experiment, and L. went to the store, leaving Pooch behind. Yo! Adrienne and I played with Pooch. I made a chew toy out of an old dish rag, and Pooch went crazy for tug of war. Turns out Pooch is just neurotic and lonely. Within minutes we had belly rubbing and all was well.
So: four months into the new place, and we've already rescued one stray and have babysat two dogs. Looks like I'll have Pooch from Thursday until Sunday.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Fodder
Leesha instructs Chalupa about the defense of Fort McHenry during the War of 1812. Chalupa seems curiously unimpressed by the caliber and range of the Fort's biggest guns.
Inner Harbor West
The weather is unbelievable. Typically by this point Baltimore is sweltering and insufferable. Yesterday was a lovely day to stroll lazily around Federal Hill.
A Starving Brain-Sucker
Silliness outside the American Visionary Arts Museum at Baltimore's Inner Harbor.
The Aftermath
The housewarming was Saturday, and everything is still a blur. At the beginning we were trying to give tours and to chat with everybody, but for about two hours there was an insane influx. I only very briefly saw each guest at that point, and fear some were left entirely to their own devices, for which I apologize. At one point I had to rush out to Hampden and buy ice. I only got photos of the first few guests and then was swept by several currents out to sea.
Thanks to everyone who came and wished us well. We appreciate the cards and the compliments, and to those who ignored instructions and brought gifts--you are too, too kind. Revenge, however, will be swift!
Around 6:30 or 7:00 things cooled down and we had a rotating crew of about ten people, some of whom stayed until 2am. Remarkably it was not unpleasantly hot, and we could sit outside and chat into the evening. A long day indeed.
I tried to get the Mrs. to let me cook lumpia before guests arrived, but she insisted on cooking them after the party started. This made it hard to be host and hostess, because one of us was perpetually attached to the fryer. At least for once it wasn't me! I suppose hot crunchy lumpia is better than warm crunchy lumpia.
There was a progression of adventurers who went onto the roof to look at the city skyline. Some got as far as third-floor base camp and didn't ascend to the peak; that final stage can be a bit harrowing. Others achieved the summit and planted flags.
Most of the food got eaten, which is great, but we still of course have leftovers galore. By some mysterious Wedding at Canaan process we started the party with 12 bottles of wine, and finished with 20. There is also more beer in the house now than before the party started. I'll not complain about that. Even our liquor stock multiplied.
There were injuries. Cha clobbered poor Eve with a refrigerator door, resulting in a rosey shiner. Eve, ever stalwart and intrepid, was unfazed, and tried to climb to the roof herself. "Steps!" she shouted, and mounted eagerly the clanky fire escape, Daddy in pursuit. Sion wrestled a watermelon under our dining room table and stood up, banging his head. Ouch. But he played on, undeterred. The Mayor and Mayoress of Reservoir Hill enjoyed his antics a great deal.
That was our first big bash since Halloween VIII at the old place. I think in future that smaller, more cozy affairs are the way to go.
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