What You Wish For

Back home in the yard again.

Last night, I got what I wished for, and it was exhausting. Well, as I’ve mentioned, as soon as the people with nothing to do start setting off “July 4^th” firecrackers the day before Memorial Day, my nerves quiver whenever I have to leave the yard on paw. Those walks I so enjoy the rest of the year loom before me like raucous green monsters.

It’s no use trying to analyze why humans are constantly searching for excuses to re-stage the original big bang, but they do. Oh, it’s the day before Memorial Day. Let’s make loud noises in honor of the dead soldiers. Oh, it’s midnight—one minute until we change numbers on the calendar. Let’s make loud noises. Oh, duh. It’s a day to celebrate democracy. Let’s make more loud noises. And I’m not even talking about the people with the loud cars and boom boxes. Or the people who are just—well—loud. You know. They’re just loud people, even when they’re being friendly. HEY, YOU. I’M FRIENDLY. Well, I’m friendly, too. But, I’m not loud. Except when I bark to get attention. Oh, is that why people make loud noises?

Back to last night.

Joan was taking Kyla back to the city, so, since I wouldn’t go for a walk before they left, Joan said, “Okay, you can have your wish. Get in the car.” And we did.

Some people honked their horn and waved to us on the Parkway. Other people were trying to kill each other by going really fast in and out of lanes.

We got into the city and dropped Kyla off, and then we drove all the way down the West Side Highway to around 53 Street and crossed over to the 34^th Street tunnel. The best part was stopping at red lights, because I got a really good look at all the interesting people—the Menschenmassen; that’s what Joan kept saying.

At one light, I was gazing at a man smoking a cigarette outside of a bar. He looked at me, you know, like he wanted to hug me. Joan called out, “Two beers and a bag of chips, please!” And the man called back, “You got it.” But, then the light changed, and we never got the beer or the chips.

Lots of people were going to the theater. My head was hanging out the driver’s side window; Shane's head was hanging out the rear passenger’s window. So, in a way, we were theater. Only, no one had to pay to see us. Theater should be free, don’t you think? Like Shakespeare in the Park with a trunk near the stage. You put money in when you can. Joseph Papp was a genius.

We finally got to the tunnel, which is so bright, I thought it was morning. But, no. We came out of the tunnel into the night and went home. Wow. Was I tired. Shane wasn’t. But, I was. Now, I’m not too sure if I want such a long ride, thank you very much. However, a good time was had by all.

Best wishes, Juno

PS: Joan's trying to find some doggy car beds so we can make similar and longer trips, but in greater comfort.