[BRINDLEKIN TALES – Book 1: Chapter 10]
[The original title was going to be: “What I Neglected to Mention, Now Revealed.” But something new has just entered the mix, so I changed it to the title you now see, and for darned good reason. Which reason will become apparent at the end of this tale. So bear with me; you will be greatly rewarded.]
WHAT I NEGLECTED TO MENTION, NOW REVEALED
In my desire to wrap up my previous tale, “I Should Kick Him in the Ass!” I left out some really important issues. Not that I did so intentionally, but they chose to conceal themselves in a rarely visited corner of my mind until some time later, when they kicked into action. They started gnawing at me the next day, which is today, Exmass Eve. Honestly, I can’t think of a better way to celebrate, than revealing to you now, these additional revelations.
At first, he demanded the jackets be removed. But I reminded Deek that I EARN these donations…and it’s friggin’ cold tonight. and he should care more about the pups’ well-being, than his own pride. Well, he mumbled something which I couldn’t translate, but he softened up in a few moments without so much as a whimper. Thus, the jackets remained securely in place. Good thing, too, because it would’ve killed me to unbind them from my beloved four-legged brindlefriends, knowing how they’d suffer. I would’ve rebelled and started a revolution, before ever doing that…with Deek the first casualty.
SIDEBAR: The first jackets received were too small. My fault, because correctly measuring for a dog’s jacket is new to me…or perhaps the seller’s instructions were skewed. So I rectified that by making an exchange through another resident, whose dachshund slipped into them perfectly. So she purchased for me, on Amazon, the next largest size. They arrived three days later and suited Taco & Wiley to a T.
He griped about the dogs being sluggish after leaving my hovel: “They don’t play or run around for two or three days after visiting you! Not a frisky bone in their body! It’s like you wore them out, running them through the hallways like that!”
“Cut it out, Deek,” I rebounded. “All they mostly do is sleep in the lap of luxury when they’re with me. And they run through my hallway two or three times a day, for less than three minutes. Maybe it’s the shock of returning to the cold night air and having to lie down on concrete most of the time. We’ve been having an unusually long cold snap, in case you haven’t noticed. It’s forty-three fuckin’ degrees right now!”
Then he abruptly switched to yet another faux complaint: “Wiley seems fine, but Taco is definitely skinnier since I left him with you…his ribs are sticking out! He gets fat again in two or three days when he’s with me.”
“No he doesn’t; he looks perfectly fine all the time, whether he’s with you or with me. He doesn’t get fat OR skinny. You just love to argue. You make things up, you lie…just so you can press my buttons. It’s like sport for you, and I’m the punching bag!”
With furrowed brow, Deek gazed directly into my covid-19 bandanna (last night’s was camouflage, of which I have several variations, one heavier on the brown spectrum, one on the blue, and another on the red; plus a TON of the paisley theme in a multitude of colors: this pandemic has brought out the fashionable dandy in me): “Why would I lie? What REASON would I have?”
“Because you’re an asshole?” I thought, but did NOT vocalize.
Deek again brought up his long-running argument that in no way should I ever write about him and his dogs. He kept it up, so I declared I’m gonna put HUGE photos of him and the pups on billboards across the nation. And on flying banners just below the clouds, and through them. And read my Brindlekin Tales across the airwaves…especially on Fox News and all its myriad affiliates. And drop billions of leaflets from the skies across the planet, with his picture on them, his present location, and a different little “Taco & Wiley” blurb on each one…translated into all the many different tongues spoken here on earth. Maybe even Latin, for the classical brainiacs among us. He rather appreciated my embellished retort ’cause he could hardly keep from busting out in laughter. At least, it appeared that way to me…though it could have been an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, or a fragment of underdone potato. God only knows WHAT the dumpsters offer up to homeless people around the Jolly Season!
But he DID make this one, interesting (though more than reasonable) stipulation whereby he’d ACCEPT someone profiting from his life with the doggies:
“I wanna see the money!” he blurted out after my grandiose proposal. “And lots of it! Lots and lots of it!”
“No, I’m NOT writing about you or the dogs, Deek!” I reiterated for the umpteenth time. “But you’re going to benefit immensely, regardless. Because it is YOU who brought me these sweet angels, who in turn brought ME a blessed revelation thanks to their gentle, sweet spirit of pure love, joy, and understanding of how the simple kindness of a furry ball of pure goodness can work tremendous achievements on one’s soul…and destiny.”
I closed My Paean Of Praise thusly: “So stop imagining things that are never gonna happen, that cause you to make blatantly FALSE accusations!”
“Okay,” he said, and nothing more, as I ended our visit and departed back hovel, where my latest (and extraordinary) work-in-progress was calling to me like a lover from Mount Olympus stirring feverishly with lust for yours truly (and yours truly alone) right there on the fainting couch.
I suspect that Deek is actually one of my guardian angels, playing out his role to move me along in a proper fashion. Which in his case is to hurl at my feet one difficult challenge after another…that I become a better person by overcoming each one through compassionate means. But not without a sense of humor, either! For if I’m correct in this conjecture, he definitely knows I’m writing all about him and the pooches, in spite of my convincing reassurance that I am not. IOW: he’s having a lark of a time with me, putting me on the spot so often. But the really good thing about this is that Taco and Wiley are perfectly safe and warm through it all, being as they are, the charges of a loving entity called “Deek” on this earthly plane. And, as you can imagine, my anxieties over them have, for the most part, dissipated.
The greatest thing about this remarkable insight, is that Deek most likely is NOT an addict OR homeless…that it’s simply part of the guise, a character he’s playing, rather than his true self. What he does when he’s out of my range, I can’t imagine. Well, I can, but too many possibilities to waste my time over.
He also rambled on about hanging with “his people” for a few days, who live outside the city limits. Which gave me the impression he was on his way now, and only stopped by to pick up an advance on his allowance. But hours later he was still nearby, hunkering down here in the Castro, and just around the corner from me.
I came back a second time, within scant minutes of that hilarious rendezvous I just recounted, because the Angel of Inspiration goaded me. To tell him my upcoming success is not my doing, but that of God’s. And how many other people will likewise be elevated…as indeed some already are at this very moment, including my own fortunate self.
“I’m not crazy, Deek, this is really happening,” I concluded and prepared to depart once more. “You’ll know soon enough what I say is true, because YOUR time is just around the corner.”
“See ya later, alligator!” Deek called to me as I crossed Market Street.
“In a while, crocodile,” I replied.
As I’m writing this piece now, Exmass Eve morning, it suddenly occurred to me to take a snapshot of where he and doggies camped out last night. It was only 9:15 AM, so surely they’d still be hunkered down beneath their makeshift shelter. But just in case they were up, or at least Deek was, I invented this excuse before exiting my building:
I’d conceal my smartphone and offer to buy him a large cup of coffee from Rosenberg’s. Apologizing for not bringing him his favorite hot beverage (blueberry tea), because I ran out of honey. True enough, because I really DID run out of honey two days ago, and forgot to buy more.
Well, turns out I needn’t have worried, because, yes indeed, their Exmass camp-out was still there, and all parties concerned were safely concealed and, hopefully, warm as toast or reasonably so. Seeing as BOTH brindlekin had their jackets, and a blanket to share. Here are two pics:
Almost two hours had passed before I stepped out to check up on My Trio again…this time to sincerely wish Deek a Merry Christmas, and offer to buy him coffee and a snack or two. But they weren’t around…the area where they had parked for the night was spotless, as if no one had ever camped there in the first place!
“Hmm, they might be somewhere nearby, Zeke, don’t give up YET,” a little budgie told me, so I decided to first head up Market Street to Castro.
As I approached I saw a small gathering of street people huddled together right outside of Subway and the Chevron gas station. Their small piles of possessions were cast along the curb, and lo and behold, rising above all was Deek’s shopping cart magic bag of goodies, and Wiley & Taco leashed to it, dancing on their hind feet in merry “woofs” at my arrival! I stooped down to receive their sweet attention, which I returned in kind.
At first I couldn’t spot Deek, but then saw him seated along the inner curb that defined a narrow garden separating gas station from sidewalk. He was surrounded by six others, all sharing burritos, Subway sandwiches, coffee, soda, and other snacks and goodies. As I rose, he spotted me:
“Hey, Zeke, whaddup?”
“Oh, I just dropped by to wish you Merry Christmas again,” I called from where I stood, by the cart. Then I stepped forward and right outside the circle of pilgrims.
“All people are assholes,” I declared.
I heard someone chuckle and say, “Boy ain’t THAT the truth!” Looking down towards where the voice arose, I saw a scraggly bearded fellow seated on the concrete near my feet. He had long, dirty-blond hair and wore loose garments cloaked in a striped serape. I grinned back as he noshed on a bulging, steaming hot half-slice of pita bread stuffed with savories.
“No human being is capable of giving the kind of love we all really need,” I continued, speaking over the suddenly attentive tribe of vagrants. “Only the sweetness of a dog can do that. Humans are too complicated for such unconditional devotion. No matter how good you are, how long you’ve walked the path of truth in God’s love, you’ll fuck up EVERYthing in the long run.”
By now, Deek was beaming brightly, soaking up my words like the rays of the sun. I tilted my face towards him, and anointed his soul with these Exmassy words:
“So I thank you, Deek, from the bottom of my heart, for bringing Taco & Wiley into my life. They have changed EVERYthing for me…and definitely for the better! I have a ton of phone calls to make over the next two or three hours, about getting my stories out there; as well as some other important matters to discuss. It’s all good, and to my immense benefit, as well as yours. Now I wanna spend a few minutes with the pooches, to wish them a Merry Christmas, too.”
Deek seemed to take all this in stride, unlike his usual, ornery self he presents to me. “Sure, go ahead. They’re dying to see you.”
Wish I had my smartphone, then, to take some pics and a video or two. Because the soft-green nylon shell of the sleeping bag on which the dogs played reflected pleasingly in the sunlight, mixed as it was with a low pile of jackets and sweaters in deep shades of blue, maroon and black. They climbed over each other repeatedly, vying to get closer in my arms than is physically possible. The tail wags, the growls of affection, love-bites between their little jaws, the rush to slobber all over my face: I was awash in Dog’s love, and overjoyed to see they still had jackets on. I touched their bodies to discover they were cozily warm, even their uncovered parts such as their floppy ears and chunky little legs. What a relief to know this!
I still had something else to say to Deek, so I stood up and looked at him, until he noticed. He waved me over, so I entered an opening in the circle, bent down halfway over him, and softly spoke these words:
“I want to tell you something, but I don’t want others to hear, as they might not understand. Nothing personal, though.” He nodded okay, so I continued:
“As I said last night, a lot of good things are gonna soon happen in this world, to all the good people in it…and of course, you’re part of it. One thing they told me…and I don’t mean I actually see or hear them, it’s just a strong ‘knowing’ in my heart…is not to worry about Taco & Wiley. They will be perfectly fine forever, and always be with you. They will suffer no disease or other mishaps to destroy our bond with them. But in everything else, as well, we need not worry, ever again. Everything’s gonna work out fabulously for you, for me, and for millions of other people.”
I then paused, wondering if there’s something I forgot to divulge. No, there didn’t seem to be, so I concluded with:
“And that’s my Christmas gift to you…sharing this knowledge.”
He thanked me several times over as I stood and walked away, but not before giving the brindlekin a few more hugs and kisses.
Re: Run-in with the building manager…not very nice.
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: December 24, 4:39 PM
A “gay” dog jacket. Now I’ve heard everything.
He’s just pressing my buttons. That’s all he’s been doing all along. The rascal.
Shouldn’t take long for it to enter the language and become indispensable!!!
Your precognitive take on the matter is most appreciated. Happy Brindlekin Fest, by the way! It’s tomorrow; I just decided that, and so it is. They’ll probably shorten it to “Brindlefest.” I have no control over the Fates. DOWN WITH SHITMAS, UP WITH DOGGY WORSHIP!
PS: I just inserted the N in your “eter” typo. I feel so ashamed for you, Tara. What happened to my literary hero? She was here a moment ago!
Re: Run-in with the building manager…not very nice.
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date: December 24, 5:27 PM
That was typed by my half-witted hunchbacked assistant, who shall now receive a sound beating for that egregiously execrable error!!!
I always wondered why you partnered with Erwin; now I know.
Subject: HOLD THE PRESSES if at all possible
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Marshall McGee
Date: December 24, 6:55 PM
I have an incredible, TRUE Exmass tale I’m in the middle of composing, and hope to complete within a few hours from now. It is actually the second part of a two-part piece…and the reading of it should take no more time than playing Curious Raven’s video. I will post to you the finished result ASAP, including the text version.
If you cannot, or do not want to, change your scripted plan, that’s perfectly fine with me. However, it IS Exmass Eve, and my piece is a PERFECT modern-day Exmass tale.
Re: One of the best paragraphs I’ve ever written
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: Tara Roosevelt
Date:December 24, 9:12 PM
Gotcher mojo workin’!
So much fun inserting that famous Dickens passage. The second time I’ve done so, as well! Can’t remember WHICH tale that was in, and it was a paraphrase, a modernization of that quote…and very vegan. Ah, found it by searching for “tomacco” (I knew it was part of the paraphrase) in my Gay Bible “/write” folder. I’m having a vision where I’m chewing the fat with Jehovah:
“I don’t even think YOU really exist. You could simply be a figment of my imagination, a manifestation of another dream vision…an undigested bit of tofu, a blot of Veganaise, a crumb of rice cake, a fragment of underdone tomacco.”
It’s an unfinished chapter in my unfinished novel, “Friendly Ghost Detective Agency.” I SHALL eventually complete it.
So another dream came true for me: that I would spend Exmass Eve with Deek’s little brindlemutts. Not that it was at the front of my mind, but something I thought a week or so ago: “If Deek ever asks me what I want for Exmass, I’d tell him ‘to spend Christmas Eve with the doggies.'” (He never did ask, so I never did tell.) Now, I didn’t think I’d see Deek and crew tonight, so it was really a nice surprise when he showed up again and asked if I’d like to have them over. Here’s what I think is going on, based on my self-made philosophy of “NeoPositivity:”
Deek is one of my guardian spirits, who plays somewhat of an antagonist’s role…often convoluting a simple situation into a complex disaster. This challenges me to figure out how to unravel the knot. So, as a clairaudient higher life form (maybe even from another planet; he sure acts like it), he also knows exactly what my wishes are. Thus, he offered up the doggies tonight, not on a mundane friendship level, but playing out a bit of a drama first…never (god forbid) saying how much he appreciates my devotion, and wants me to enjoy their company on this blessed night. Now having said this, I’ve just completed my latest tale…having stepped out at times to discover what I am to write down next. It’s about what happened last night and into the following day, ending with this missive. Here it is: