I Love Lupe (24)

UNITED STATES—I, Lupe, have been responsible for a certain nervous rewiring in our “master.” Indeed. It is frankly funny how he barely gets out the door to get out of the house with DeVille (the first dog to join his family), then it dawns he forgot his cellphone, or in today’s case: a pen or pencil.

Chihuahua DeVille monopolizes his attention, then with a sudden start he’ll feel his pockets for the doggie bags. Deep, deep. No doggie bags. Now when he gets back to the gate after the return trip there are two dogs loose  on their way to the Boulevard where death can be but eight inches away, when cars pass by at manic speed. This is his peril more than ours, as he underestimates canines’ situational awareness compared to that with which we have been endowed by Providence, to guard timid mortal souls.

His heart skips a beat, and somehow by the grace of dog he herds me back inside and remains with docile DeVille on a leash. A huge sigh of relief is expelled from our master. He slides his back down the metal gate, now keeping me safely enclosed. This he does both in relief and surrender, and proceeds to let Baby DeVille, that little prancer, to strut down to the boulevard. But only if it were so easy, for soon enough he realizes that DeVille is doing the poop squat, over some cracked sidewalk, and darn it to heck, he still forgot to get doggie bags.

Oh, wait, there was a newspaper sleeve hidden in a hip pocket. Now what’s a newspaper, younger readers me ask. The master used the clear plastic bag to bag DeVille’s output and tied the knot with a clear sense of accomplishment. And then, moments later, it turned out that this was only the first act of a three-act play. More emblems of DeVille’s healthy digestive system produced both liquids and solids. Nevertheless, here there is need, need there is a way. A dried maple leaf was just the thing to clean up the mess and keep it from squishing onto a neighbor’s shoe sole.

The goal, as usual, was the cafe around the corner, which the master has a magnetic attraction as I, Lupe, have for lording it over the house in their absence and reveling in defiance of the master’s will. Meanwhile, my little helpmate and minion, DeVille drives him crazy with frequent stops to sniff a McDonalds bag, that once contained a semi-beef patty or a piece of jerkified Louisiana Fried Chicken and detains the whole expedition to the morning’s espresso, when the prize is so near and yet so far.

To be continued…