Her mother, who works at home, loves when I volunteer for her afternoon walk. I have to laugh when she thanks me so heartily. I always say, I should thank her. 50 minutes with Tallulah is a whole lot cheaper than therapy.
She is so different from Carmela the basset hound. Where Carm was more high-maintenance, Tallu is self-possessed, like a West Point cadet, if they had Afros and tails that is.
I swear she power-walks pulling me along without any apology whatsoever, and unlike Carmela who flirted shamelessly with every dog she met, Tallulah is quite aloof rarely engaging.
She seems to have a deep desire to catch a squirrel, and not for a chat either. I finally had to have a heart-to heart with her about the perils of gunning down your colleagues. It went something like this:
“You know Tallulah, you’re gonna end up having no friends in the Central Park community.”
“Yeah, and your point is?”
“Don’t you want any? Don’t you want to be known as a well-mannered, Bichon of distinction?”
“I’m a dog Susannah, not a Kennedy.”
“Okay fair enough, then what about karma? Do you want to come back as a frog in your next life?”
“Frogs don’t have it so bad. Just ask Kate. It depends what pond you land in.”
“Well the rate you’re going you’ll end up in the lab of a science class.”
“You’re so dramatic. It’s natural I want to kill squirrelly over there who, if you haven’t noticed, taunts the shit outta me.”
She had a point. They do seem to enjoy getting her fur up. But I still feel I’m right.
“Just so you know madam, on my watch you’ll never bag one…
excuse me…what did you just say…bag this? Well no biscuit for you today.”
She didn’t care as she picked up speed as if she was running an Ironman. Made me think of my Carm who made friends with everybody, kinda like me.