You Ain’t Nothin But A Hoond Dog

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…

preferably a four-legged one.              get-attachment-7 SB

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About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
This entry was posted in animals, Family, friendship, humor, Love, New York City, Uncategorized, Women and men and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

11 Responses to You Ain’t Nothin But A Hoond Dog

  1. katecrimmins says:

    There is something about animals. Maybe the unconditional acceptance or their memory of anyone who did something nice for them. They are BFFs right out of the box.

    Like

  2. she is precious! I agree with Life… those ears are perfect for listening. Dogs have friends and they like to visit them. Our Shugo has a great friend in they shy grandson of a neighbor. Shugo was the first dog he petted, he is 7 and was scared to death of dogs until our little guy melted his heart. Now they are best buds… love the post!

    Like

  3. D. D. Syrdal says:

    Awww, hound breeds are so sweet. I had a friend when I was a child that had a Bassett Hound, only one I’ve gotten to pet in real life. Such loves.

    Like

  4. Patricia says:

    You have the joy of all these pets and none of the work. It’s like being an old maid auntie. Not that you are an old maid but it is what I think of when you write about your furry friends.

    Like

  5. Her eyes could melt the coldest of hearts. Carmela is such a perfect name!

    Like

  6. micklively says:

    I enjoyed reading this, despite what I said on Tuesday.

    Like

    • One had little to do with the other..it’s just a piece Mick…glad you liked it. I know what a dog lover you are. She’s sweet that Carmela.

      Like

      • micklively says:

        Well, yes, but you know me: I have to analyse everything. They seem so loving: what does that mean? How would a behavioural biologist make explain the affection that Smudge shows me? It’s got to be more than just she gets fed, groomed and walked, surely? If you saw the way she cuddles up to me every night on the sofa: can that be animal instinct?

        Like

      • She’s treating you in kind. You’ve given her a home, food…a beautiful place to run and jump. Unstinted affection. They know. If you weren’t that way…she’d be on another chair turning the other way. You needn’t be Freud to know that Mr. Lively. And we mustn’t forget Mrs. Lively who might adore her more than you do…SB Animal Medium

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