Sunday, October 14, 2007

I Read the News Today Oh Boy

One of the joys of living in a small town is that every time you sneeze it makes headlines in the little local rag. And in the past few weeks, I swear you can't pick up the morning paper without seeing Mr. Bigshot celebrity Superman looming in your face. I'm afraid he's going to replace me with an agent any minute now. These are all photos that appeared recently in the Deep Inferno newspaper, affectionately known around here as The Daily [Sic]:

At the farmers market two weeks ago.

Farmers market three weeks ago.

At a zydeco dance Friday night. You can just barely see us hanging out schmoozing in the background here, but in the print photo our white hair leaps out at you like Johnny and Edgar Winter.

Yesterday there was a zydeco band playing in the park near our house for the anti-drug propaganda Red Ribbon Week Kickoff event, so we walked over to check it out. Superstar is a major kid magnet everywhere we go.

Of course all the girls wanted to pose with him.

At one point there were about 20 kids crowded around him, patting him, hugging him, laughing at his sunglasses, tugging his ears and shaking his paws. He was heroically sweet and tolerant, as gentle and patient as a Saint Bernard. I almost can't believe this is the same snarly aggressive fearful dog I adopted four months ago. I had him run through his repertoire of tricks for the kids: waving his paw, spinning in circles, taking a bow, etc., and the crowd just went wild. Some of the braver kids took his leash and walked him around using the "heel" command. And even the shyest kids opened up to tell me stories about their own dogs at home.

I love seeing how much joy this wonderful dog brings to people. I'm wondering if there's a therapy dog program around here where he can become certified. I'd love to be able to take him to schools and nursing homes and stuff. I think I'll look into it. Something like this, maybe.

Oh, and guess who else showed up at the anti-drug propaganda festival yesterday: Supe's old girlfriend Stella, the killer K-9 unit police dog. They had her doing demonstrations where cops dressed up in huge padded suits and she attacked them and ripped their throats out. Poor Superman peed his feet at the mere sight of her. That girl really puts the fear of god into him. If he had a stash hidden under the cushion of his loveseat, I guarantee you he flushed it the minute we got home.

K-9 killer dog at work detecting drugs in the park.


Blogger Najia said...

I love your Superman. I believe it's fate that finds him with you now. He is your boy. Your Superman posts glow with love and beam with pride. So wonderful.

9:57 AM  
Blogger Unknown said...

It's the sunglasses, I think. Everyone loves a dog in sunglasses.

11:51 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Wonderful. Thank you.

When I temped at a rehab hospital in Boston 12 years ago, one of my duties was to walk a Newfoundland and a golden retriever, therapy dogs who belonged to one of the physiatrists. I can't tell you what pleasure it gave me, not just to hang out with dogs as "work," but to walk through the hospital with them on our way to the outdoors. People just loved them so much, and it made them so happy just to be able to touch them and be with them.

The other great thing about having a service dog, even one in training, is that by law you are allowed to take him/her everywhere. Shopping. Restaurants. Everywhere. Even to appointments at Our Lady of the Damned.

I'm sure Soop'd be much better company in such places than certain others I could name (or pseudonym; starts with P).

3:26 PM  

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