For Whom The Bell Tols
Tolstoy, dear old puppernutter of my pal Q and his fam, has left the building.
A tan Akita mix with David Bowie eyes and an I'll-do-it-because-I-want-to-not-because-you-tell-me-to attitude, Toli lived an eventful life, some moments made more eventful by his own paw. Q had adopted him from a Tahoe shelter, where apparently the dog had earned himself a reputation as a bad seed. I don't think they expected to place him. He was big on running away. With time, and Q's companionship and tough love, The Tol started to come around. Sort of. He never lost his taste for feminine hygiene products (I learned to flush when Aunt Flo and I were both visiting), nor for things like, say, an entire plateful of leftover lemon cookies my then-boyfriend and I had baked for Q and M's engagement party. I'd gone over to their house to use the computer only to find a trail of crumbs and plastic wrap, and an anxious email from M asking me to make sure Toli drank plenty of water and here is the number for the vet just in case.
When that boyfriend and I spent a few days dogsitting for Toli, we took the opportunity to make a Hi-8 short starring him (and ourselves) about a dog who uses his mind-control powers to hypnotize a sleeping couple into killing the neighborhood cats. It ends with our arrests by a priest/private eye character named Father Frank and an electric guitar cover of "Jesus Loves Me." We called it War And Peace and left it in Q & M's DVD player labeled XXX PORN XXX hoping they'd watch it. "You left something in our DVD player," Q phoned me a few days later. "No, watch it! It's for you guys," I tried to convince him and then had to tell him the whole deal.
Also, Longest Wait For Prank Payoff Ever: That weekend, the bf and I watched our hosts' copy of Memento and stuck a Polaroid we'd taken of Tolstoy back in the DVD box...black Sharpie caption: TOLSTOY - DO NOT BELIEVE HIS LIES ABOUT DINNERTIME. It was something like three years later and I believe that the bf and I had since parted ways when I finally asked Q if he'd watched Memento recently. Yeah, not really recently.
But before we'd broken up and after that bf and I had moved from San Francisco to Los Angeles and adopted a year-old, very enthusiastic pup of our own, Q and M and senior citizen Toli came to visit. The dogs' interaction went a little like this.
Mr. Puppypants: Hi!!! Let's play!!!!
Tolstoy: Go away!
Mr. Puppypants: Hi!!! Let's play!!!!
Tolstoy: Go away!!
Mr. Puppypants: Hi!!! Let's play!!!!
Tolstoy: Go away!!! Damn!!!!
Eventually we left them in the yard to work it out while we ate dinner.
Mr. Puppypants: Yay, we're outside!!!!!!!! Let's play!!!!!!!!!
Tolstoy: I. Am. TRAPPED!!!!!!!!!1!
When we came back, they were pals. Or at least coexisting peacefully.
Anyway, my favorite Tolstoy memory was, what, 1997, 98? this time we were in Golden Gate Park and a then three- or four-year-old Tolstoy took out a bicyclist - knocked over the guy, his wheels, the grocery bags that were in the basket - and then bolted, tail held high, swaggering amok while Q called after him to COME HERE, NOW. "I can't hear you and besides, I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT," said the tail.
Aww, Tol. You were a fabulous hellraiser and a good sport. Your fur was thick and soft. You grew more patient, or perhaps more apathetic, in your elder years. There's more I am thinking about, about your constancy in my human friend's life, and the changes through which you two accompanied each other, and how deeply I value having had the opportunity to see those changes happen - but that feels too private to say here. As does the converse. I got to know you for a solid decade plus. You had a pack with Q and M and, lately, their young spawn. It was good. The important thing is, you got to live surrounded by love and leave surrounded by love.
Good dog.
A tan Akita mix with David Bowie eyes and an I'll-do-it-because-I-want-to-not-because-you-tell-me-to attitude, Toli lived an eventful life, some moments made more eventful by his own paw. Q had adopted him from a Tahoe shelter, where apparently the dog had earned himself a reputation as a bad seed. I don't think they expected to place him. He was big on running away. With time, and Q's companionship and tough love, The Tol started to come around. Sort of. He never lost his taste for feminine hygiene products (I learned to flush when Aunt Flo and I were both visiting), nor for things like, say, an entire plateful of leftover lemon cookies my then-boyfriend and I had baked for Q and M's engagement party. I'd gone over to their house to use the computer only to find a trail of crumbs and plastic wrap, and an anxious email from M asking me to make sure Toli drank plenty of water and here is the number for the vet just in case.
When that boyfriend and I spent a few days dogsitting for Toli, we took the opportunity to make a Hi-8 short starring him (and ourselves) about a dog who uses his mind-control powers to hypnotize a sleeping couple into killing the neighborhood cats. It ends with our arrests by a priest/private eye character named Father Frank and an electric guitar cover of "Jesus Loves Me." We called it War And Peace and left it in Q & M's DVD player labeled XXX PORN XXX hoping they'd watch it. "You left something in our DVD player," Q phoned me a few days later. "No, watch it! It's for you guys," I tried to convince him and then had to tell him the whole deal.
Also, Longest Wait For Prank Payoff Ever: That weekend, the bf and I watched our hosts' copy of Memento and stuck a Polaroid we'd taken of Tolstoy back in the DVD box...black Sharpie caption: TOLSTOY - DO NOT BELIEVE HIS LIES ABOUT DINNERTIME. It was something like three years later and I believe that the bf and I had since parted ways when I finally asked Q if he'd watched Memento recently. Yeah, not really recently.
But before we'd broken up and after that bf and I had moved from San Francisco to Los Angeles and adopted a year-old, very enthusiastic pup of our own, Q and M and senior citizen Toli came to visit. The dogs' interaction went a little like this.
Mr. Puppypants: Hi!!! Let's play!!!!
Tolstoy: Go away!
Mr. Puppypants: Hi!!! Let's play!!!!
Tolstoy: Go away!!
Mr. Puppypants: Hi!!! Let's play!!!!
Tolstoy: Go away!!! Damn!!!!
Eventually we left them in the yard to work it out while we ate dinner.
Mr. Puppypants: Yay, we're outside!!!!!!!! Let's play!!!!!!!!!
Tolstoy: I. Am. TRAPPED!!!!!!!!!1!
When we came back, they were pals. Or at least coexisting peacefully.
Anyway, my favorite Tolstoy memory was, what, 1997, 98? this time we were in Golden Gate Park and a then three- or four-year-old Tolstoy took out a bicyclist - knocked over the guy, his wheels, the grocery bags that were in the basket - and then bolted, tail held high, swaggering amok while Q called after him to COME HERE, NOW. "I can't hear you and besides, I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT," said the tail.
Aww, Tol. You were a fabulous hellraiser and a good sport. Your fur was thick and soft. You grew more patient, or perhaps more apathetic, in your elder years. There's more I am thinking about, about your constancy in my human friend's life, and the changes through which you two accompanied each other, and how deeply I value having had the opportunity to see those changes happen - but that feels too private to say here. As does the converse. I got to know you for a solid decade plus. You had a pack with Q and M and, lately, their young spawn. It was good. The important thing is, you got to live surrounded by love and leave surrounded by love.
Good dog.