Captain Mebing

Sunday, I needed to go to the post office. Okay, need is an awfully strong word. The house did come with a mail slot. Sunday, I wanted to go to the post office. I had a bill that I had paid and my cousin’s baby took a spill and I wanted to send a card. I decided that Dogger and I would walk to the post office. I can unilaterally make decisions like that because I am the biped. Sucks for her.

So we walked. And it was a good walk , minimal chicken bones, and I noticed that They finally cleared the sidewalk that runs along New Bern Avenue of the dirt and vines and garbage that had taken over. Every few months They do a fairly good job of keeping the hobo jungles in the field from getting mythic - There must be a better more now term for that more, more today. More Failed Bush Admin than Failed Hoover Admin., “Hobo jungles” are so last century. How about Junkie Hide-a-Ways, Crack Whore Lounges? Whatever you would call them, they are now gone . They’ll be back because it doesn’t appear that They salted the earth or anything but They did clearly, utilize some Ms. Dash. I wasthrilled about the sidewalk. The historic big trees are still there, the historic barb wire is still there but the historic ivy the historic dirt and the historic condoms are gone...

And on Sunday, when Dogger decided she needed to go home now, we did, because, well, because it’s easier that way and later on she mentioned that she suddenly remembered that Monday was a federal holiday and thus there would be no mail service and so there was no reason to go the post office.

And so Monday, I still needed to go to the post office. Me Biped.

And we’re walking and everything is good. And a head of us, within site of our Postal goal, is a house, the house has a yard, in the yard is a dog and the dog has noticed us. In the front yard of the house is a woman with a rake. Dogger notices the woman and her rake. Dogger does a modified Hamill camel and we are now headed away from the house, the yard, the dog, the woman and her rake and the post office.

I’m not exactly sure that she didn’t actually turn herself inside out. This is the second time she has refused to go to the post office, but it took her longer to change her mind this time. We ended up walking around the neighborhood again -Which is fine, but it wasn’t my idea. As the biped, I am the one makes the decisions. I am the captain, the purser, the tour director, the ship doctor and the bartender! Dogger is one of the guest stars, she’s along for the ride, she isn’t supposed to be in charge of navigation.

And you’re saying, “Then don’t let her”. Easier said than done my friend. She is very strong and gets better traction than I do. She can also turn herself to stone when the mood strikes. I can no more move her when she doesn’t want to be moved than I could push Minnie if the emergency brake was set. She trumps in this case because she is the quadruped and I am the biped. If the going gets tough, four wheel drive trumps two wheel drive. Sucks for me.

I tried though.

I said Okay Dogger we’re going across the street!

and Dogger said - No

And I said - We’re going to the post office damn it!

And she said - You do whatever you want. I am not going to the post office. Between here and there is a big giant Thing with a big giant claw and it’s going to eat you and not me. You can go home with me or you can get eaten by the big giant thing with the big giant claw! My mama didn’t raise no dumb puppies.

And I said - Screw that! I raised you! Me! I’m your mama! And I raised you to go to the post office!

And then I remembered I was in public and that maybe, this was not the time or the place for this conversation and so we went home. Because I wanted to.

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