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Saturday, June 02, 2007
Digging Deeper
Dominator
Dominator
DAD. A week ago, I told you about Andrew barking at turkeys. I didn't tell you about how incredibly handsome Andrew is, or about the broken rib that sticks out from his side like a burr. We don't know why he's so timid, but he is. Apart from barking at turkeys and goldfinches, he can't seem to bring himself to meet anyone. He won't take food -- not even an irresistible treat -- from anyone's hand.
All we do know is that Andrew is a sweet, gorgeous boy, and he succeeded an incredibly beautiful greyhound named Patrick, who was the fastest thing to a hundred yards anyone here has ever seen -- and who had the gravest, most dignified personality anyone here has ever seen.
Patrick being beautiful
Patrick being Arnold Schwarzenegger. His muscles had muscles.
I saw Patrick explode out of the box and do the hundred in about three seconds.. I saw Patrick racing in the yard, changing direction 180 degrees in an instant just for the hell of it. He weighed 80 pounds, because he was always fit as a fiddle, and the only time he ever lost his temper was when a 95-lb greyhound at the park growled at his deerhound. Patrick curled his lip and flexed his massive thigh muscles. The other greyhound hid behind his mommy. I would have done that too. It was always clear that he was faster than the lovely Molly, because she never had that explosiveness except when somebody was holding a cheeseburger or a potato chip.
Molly
Now it turns out that you can get the complete history and pedigree of
your greyhounds from the internet,
with nothing more to go on than the tattoos in their ears. It was no
surprise at all that Molly
lost all her races. Beautiful as she is, she still would have preferred
any opportunity at food to winning a mere race. Patrick won four times,
though.
Amazing to me, because his forte was so clearly the hundred yard dash.
Anything more than that and it would be so easy to see him issuing
perfunctory statements to the press about how there would be no records
this year
because he'd strained a leg or a thigh and would have to do a month of
rehab on the weight machines.Only Andrew never ran a single race.Which makes him the ultimate softy. Except that his daddy was the final proof of why Andrew was a timid barker rather than a racer. Nobody could live up to Andrew's Daddy. Here's the record of the dog called the Dominator, Andrew's papa: He ran 148 races, and he won 63 of them. Jeez. How could anyone compete with that?
Andrew likes Mrs. InstaPunk. She doesn't use a whip. Why run at all?
I have to admit I think Andrew could
run the ears off Street Sense. If he felt like it. Otherwise, he'd just
steal starring roles from Matt Damon. Then again, I'm from the middle
Atlantic
states, like Edgar Allan Poe. I'm pretty much full time delusional.
