Texas in Ohio

Texas in Ohio

Texas is a dog. Not just any dog, but a bulky, muscular specimen of doghood. Sixty five pounds of well defined muscle, barely sheathed in an eighteen-and-a-half inch tall frame. Jowls as thick as an expensive cut of filet mignon and jaws that crush golf balls in a way that would shame Tiger himself. An American Staffordshire Terrier, that modern mix of the bulldog, said to kill bulls in the pits of European sport, and the Terrier, known for its dislike of other animals. The only American Kennel Association recognized breed of Pit-Bull. An even-tempered and heroic companion to Generals of war, a highly decorated war veteran himself, and the only four legged member of Our Gang. A valiant protector of his two-legged litter and an obedient servant to his proud owner.

Texas is our dog.

Texas is a wimp. A pussy cat in Pit-Bull’s clothing, relegated to a field of carpet where he lays, four paws in the air and sideways tilted head with limp tongue to air, dreaming of how good it would be if he could sneak up on the sofa and we would find his posture so amusing that we would rub his belly and pat his nose and forever declare the sofa to be his and never again sit on it leaving behind our offensive two-legged smell. And we would encourage him to spray his claim to the sofa and we would laugh about how cute that was and we would offer it to him as his own and we would sit on the carpet with our limbs up in the air and we would go to the bathroom through the hole he chewed in the back door, and he would finish his dreams and awaken to the tips of our feet, five sets of legs weak with laughter at the way he sleeps.

So off he goes, first stretching his body one leg at a time, opening his huge mouth as if to swallow the room, looking back coyly to confirm that indeed we want him out of there. He trots to my home office and plants himself by the sliding glass doors, staring into the yard, looking, to a passersby, like the reflection of a short tree stump with legs. The chipmunk looks at him mockingly, juggling an acorn between his claws, as he usually does at this time of the morning. Let the day begin.

Baark, Baark, why, I’ll break through this glass, I tell you, and I’ll chase you, by God, I’ll chase you, with a large piece of glass still stuck to my neck, fearless, bleeding, blood running down my stellar calves, do you see these calves. Blood everywhere, leaving a trail for your mother to find you. It hurts I tell you, it hurts, but I don’t care, look at me, do you think I care? Well, maybe if it didn’t hurt so much, why does it have to hurt, you’re the one wrecking my owner’s yard, why do I have to hurt.

So, it won’t hurt, but, oh the blood, running, vivid like the hell that will be your life when I catch you, blood everywhere, red, oozing outta my neck. Well, maybe we can skip the blood ‘cause it makes me a little queasy, but by God, I’ll be scratched I tell you, a noticeable scratch across the vastness that is my chest, and you’ll run, oh, you’ll run.

You with your puny little brain and me, look at me, this head is not all muscle, I can predict where you’ll turn. I go left before you go left, well, maybe not left ‘cause I’d run straight into that oak tree and I’d have to see that nice dentist again who gives me sleepy juice so I don’t bite him when he puts my teeth back in a row.

You see chipmunk, even a big dentist with all his fancy swords is afraid of me, why I could kill him, I could, if he’d just take me down from that metal table. Why do they make those tables so high, and they rattle when my legs shake, it’s a good thing he gives me sleepy juice ‘cause it makes my legs squishy and then he puts me down and it takes a long time for me to get to the door, on account-a my legs are squishy and I walk sideways.

But my legs aren’t squishy now, and I’ll go straight this time, yeah, you got it, straight into Mrs. Old Bag’s yard. She won’t care cause she likes me and she likes my owner, she calls him over for tea and cookies. I heard her on the phone the other day, she said she tossed her cookies on account of I left a loaf in her yard, so she say’s he should go over and get it, and my owner says the old bag tossed her cookies again and he’s got to go pick up my loaf, and my owner says I’m gonna get it when he gets back, you hear that chipmunk, cookies.

So, don’t you worry chipmunk, I’ll go straight, straight for your throat and I’ll cough you up like a piece of fur. Rrrrghh, guhh, hughr hughr, you hear that chipmunk, that’s you stuck in my throat, well, I feel kind a sick ‘cause-a-doing that, so, I won’t cough you up, I’ll just pass you in Mrs. Old Bag’s yard, so she can give us cookies.

Hold on chipmunk, here comes that nice lady the meter Bitch. She sees dollar signs, that’s what my owner says. She reads the numbers wrong he says, he should know chipmunk, don’t you laugh, if you know what’s good for you chipmunk, he knows numbers good, he says them to the kids every day, One, Two, don’t you make me go to Three, he says, but he can go to Three, I heard him once. Three’s a big number, cause the kids all run on-account Three’s so big you gotta leave the room.

He says he can’t possibly use all that gas, which is why he lets some go in the house. I know that on account-a Mrs. Owner complains that he’s got too much gas and he’s always letting it out when the company leaves. I never sees it myself on account I’m in the laundry room ‘cause the company’s afraid-a-me, you hear that chipmunk, they're afraid-a-me, mostly cause I rub my weenie against their leg.

Baark, Baark, you see that chipmunk, she jumps back every time, and then she shows me her finger, that means One, that’s what my owner said to the kids on account they want to know what he’s saying to the car at the stoplight. My owner’s good with numbers chipmunk. One, chipmunk, that’s how many less you’re gonna be chipmunk. There goes the meter Bitch, you see that, she’s done her counting and she’s telling me its One again, it’s always One and that’s how come gas costs so much.

Consider yourself dead chipmunk, put that nut down and listen to me. I hope they have a heaven for chipmunks ‘cause that’s where your gonna go, just like that mouse I caught. He went to mouse heaven, ‘cause that’s what my owner said to the kids, on account-a the mouse was all sticky and stuff, and mouse heaven is where they can get that sticky stuff off-a-him, they can even get the smirk off Mrs. Old Bag’s face soon enough, that’s what my owner says.

Sure I caught the mouse, he was nearly my size, all gray and fangs and stuff, we’ll maybe half my size, he was bigger than you anyway, almost. No, I didn’t have to bite him, look at me chipmunk, look at this chest, you see, it’s so big you gotta look left and right just to see it all. I frightened him so bad he was afraid to run off –a the sticky stuff, yeah the stuff they put down on account the damn field mice got in the house. Yeah, they’re so afraid of me they run to the sticky stuff, on account it takes them to heaven, and my owner puts’em in a bag on account-a they smell before they go to heaven.

Hey chipmunk, how does a mouse smell, with his nose you dumb-ass, get it, with his nose, my owner says that - I don’t get it. I think they smell bad, especially if they go to heaven before he has a chance to put’em in a bag.

Here comes Mrs. Owner with the van, that means the kids’ll be home soon. Ever been in a van chipmunk, I didn’t think so chipmunk, you wouldn’t know what to do, you’d probably ride under the wheel like your cousin. Yeah, Mrs. Owner heard a screech when she turned the key, she thought it was the engine, but it was your cousin.

When I ride in the van all the other cars keep their windows closed on account-a they're afraid of me, you hear that chipmunk, they're afraid I might break through like I’m gonna do here chipmunk, break through and get your puny little ass, and finish the job on your burning cousin too. He won’t ‘scape me again, ‘cause I’m stronger than an engine, ‘cept I don’t have as many cylinders, that’s what my owner says, I don’t run on all cylinders on account-a I’m top heavy in the car and I bang my head a lot.

You should see me chipmunk, sitting on the front seat, like I’m driving, well, I can’t drive, on account-a I can’t reach the pedals ‘cause I’m all body and no legs, but I sit there and people admire the stealth of my body, you hear that chipmunk, they admire my body, well mostly my head on account-a I’m too short to reach the window.

They keep their windows closed though ‘cause they're ‘fraid of me. Yeah, that one time that Mrs. Owner stopped for your cousin, on account-a he can’t get across the street so good anymore, I went top heavy, and when I got up I was a little dizzy, but I could still see the car next to me, it was full of people gasping for air on account-a they had their windows closed ‘cause they're ‘fraid of me.

The kids’ll be here soon, so I have to stretch, ‘cause I gotta jump in the air and do a full circle ‘fore I land, that means I gotta go pee, I know, it’s weird, but they’re kids chipmunk, they don’t know any better. Sometimes they don’t pay attention so good, so I gotta do circles in the air five or six times ‘fore they let me out. I pee in the back ‘cause I can’t pee on the lawn on account-a my owner throws tennis balls at me when I’m on the lawn and its hard for me to play ball when I gotta pee. So, if you’re not outta there soon, I’m gonna pee on you chipmunk, do you hear me chipmunk, I’m gonna pee on you and the monkey that brought you here, what’ya you mean the horse, horses don’t climb trees, God, you’re a dumb-ass chipmunk, that’s how come I gotta kill you chipmunk, on account-a you’re a dumb-ass and you’re puny little brain thinks horses climb trees.

My owner comes three hours after the kids come home, three hours, that’s how long you have to live chipmunk, do you know how long three hours is, its too God damn late, that’s what Mrs. Owner says, three hours is after the kids take a bath and its too God damn late, that’s how long you have to live chipmunk, too God damn late. That’s not long, chipmunk, ‘cause my owner says three hours is as quick as he can make it, so you’re dead chipmunk, quick as he can make it.

When my owner comes home I jump up and down, do you know how hard it is for me to jump up and down chipmunk, look at me I’m huge and I got no legs, but I jump up and down anyway, no dumb-ass, I jump circles to go pee, this is up and down, it means I’m glad he came home too God damn late, ‘cause that’s just the right time for me.

Yeah chipmunk, he rubs my belly with his foot on account-a I follow him everywhere and he says get lost Texas, which means he’s gonna give me some food and he holds his plate up high cause it’s gonna be a surprise. Sometimes the surprise is I get nothing, ‘cause I got my own God damn food and he buys it with his hard earned money. That’s the money he gets from the machine on Saturday morning. It’s hard earned ‘cause you gotta bend outta the car and pull it through a little hole ‘cause they wanna make it hard for you to get your own God damn money, and where do they get off keeping two dollars and he bangs the machine on accounta the money is hard earned, so that’s how come I gotta eat out of a bag. Then he sits on his ass all night, that’s what Mrs. Owner says, but he rubs my belly with his foot and I fall asleep.

There’s the schoolbus chipmunk, you get to live for another day. Watch-out for the lawn-crew chipmunk on account-a they come on Wednesdays, yeah, I think they're related to the meter lady cause my owner says they're sons-of-bitches on account-a they cut everything that’s living. I’ll see you tomorrow chipmunk.

And so Texas retires in Ohio for another night, dreaming of…

Want to see a picture, "My Dog Texas" ,"My Dog Texas" ,"My Dog Texas" ,"American Staffordshire Terrier" .