Crazy lady knows that this picture is “piss poor and useless dribble.” All you see is my head and the elevator door. She was complaining about “too much junk.” She kept swearing to herself, while she balanced the camera. Someone should clean her mouth out with extra strength detergent. I just ignore her and run back & forth, sniffing at the elevator. We were leaving for the dog park early today, so crazy lady could go to Haar-vaard and stare at the “uptight freaks.” Those are her words, not mine. I like the people at Haar-vaard. They call me “delicate” and “precious.” They give me treats and sometimes speak Mandarin. They remind me of the few good times I had in Taiwan.
Crazy lady complains a lot about Haar-vaard, but I think she really enjoys hanging out at the bookstores and staring at the people. She just likes to pretend cynicism and scorn. She’s collecting material for a new horror story about a “bitter, depressed and perky graduate student who seeks revenge on her advisor.” How many different ways can crazy lady write about psychological manipulation and torture? Apparently, she’s really good at it. Her stories are always described as “creepy,” “horrific,” and “not meant for prime time.” She even got kicked-out of Kansas. I think she is using repressed memories from her own graduate school experience, in this particular story. I feel sorry for the poor man she is setting-up to emasculate. Almost.
Hey, wait a minute. That guy in the park is eating a cereal bar. Maybe if I act cute and innocent, he will give me a piece? What do you think? Ooops. I hear crazy lady apologize to the man. He’s laughing. “Shy dog? That aint no shy dog!” he tells her, while scratching my neck. Crazy lady just sighs and shakes her head. I think she feels a little frustrated that people no longer believe her, when she explains that I am shy. Maybe because I love people in elevators, sidewalks and subway stations? They have gentle hands and interesting smells.
Crazy lady promises to take pictures, next time we visit my friends at the Cambridge dog park. Hey, I hear her at the front door. She’s home early, probably because of the summer storm brewing outside. Yeah! Time for another walk!