I’ve already introduced my pal Carmela, the basset hound, but I need to talk about her even more since I am so madly in love.
For those of you who don’t know, Carmela moved across the street from me and I’ve become very smitten visiting her daily in her front yard.
The first person I met was Lila, the housekeeper, who benevolently opened the gate so I could hug Carmela’s long tube of a body to my heart’s content. If I ever wondered what a missile felt like, now I know, one with a heartbeat that is.
Then I met her dad, a handsome, bohemian looking man in his sixties who spoke very little English. When I asked, ‘What’s her name,” he kept saying…”bossit hoond.” Finally after a hearty game of accidental charades, I learned her name was Carmela.
“Italiano?” I said, since it’s the fictional name I’ve given my mother.
“Espanol,” he said, standing up very straight as if the Armada was suddenly double-parked.
One day I encountered the missus of the house who greeted me like a long lost sister, in Spanish of course. I just nodded a lot and smiled knowing she was just touched by my attachment to her dog. Animal lovers transcend all language barriers, as I’ve happily learned.
But my favorite was meeting the daughter who had Carmela on a lead. Like all smart canines, Carmela recognized me pulling her young mistress over as if to say, “This is my friend, Susannah…she’s the one who cries in my big ears then sings into them.”
Again, I have a conversation that involved much hand grasping and grinning while Carmela observed like a wiggly diplomat.
I do tell Carm my troubles and as Life With The Top Down said, those ears were made for listening.
And the song I croon into those floppy ears goes like this:
The prettiest girl…I ever saw
Was five feet long, with great big paws…
The prettiest girl I ever saw…
Was five feet long with great big paws (I never said I was Lennon/McCartney).
Yeah I know, Susannah get a life or at the very least, your own hound…