Day 151: Mixed Bag

Day 151: Mixed Bag

Double entendre for the blog posting tonight.

Got to see our good friends Kihong and Hayoung for some good ol’ Korean Tofu at BCD. Yes, Kihongand Hayoung are Korean, which makes me white and the Ho Chinese…hence the “mixed bag”…but did we choose Korean tofu because they’re Korean. If you read this blog with any sort of regularity, you’ll know that’s a big “hell no.” The Ho and I are kind of obsessed with Soon Tofu at the moment. It was Pho for a while, not it’s Korean Tofu.

That shit is so delicious. And you have to get it spicy with a Hite beer…Hite is like the Miller Lite of Korean beer…or at least that’s what I’ve decided. It even looks kind of like Miller Lite.

We hardly get to see those two any more since we’ve stopped doing our monthly Artist Meeting/Potluck with friends. Kiki and Liz met doing a play many years ago, now, and we’ve stayed in touch since. See each other, oh, every three or four months, something like that. Kihong just took a turn as a lead in the major motion picture coming this fall, The Maze Runner. For reals, he’s actually a movie star now. It’s crazy. But, I’m definitely not surprised; he’s always been one of the most entertaining actors I know to watch.

The other meaning of the “mixed bag” for today’s entry, beyond the racism, is that the sum total of fun and good vibes that were to be had hanging out with those two (oh, we also did fro-yo afterwards and it was DELICIOUS, Pinkberry had a chocolate hazelnut flavor that tasted like freaking hot chocolate), our adventure just previous to dinner was that amount of stress, frustration, and disgust.

So, we’re pulling onto Melrose, we’re stopped at a stoplight, and across the street in the direction we’re going to turn, we see a dog outside a laundromat that’s kind of following people randomly as they walk to and fro. Instantly alerted to a possible stray dog, we make the turn, Liz jumps out, and I drive down the rest of the block to park at the Gas station on the corner. Getting back to where I left her, I see that she’s inside, and the dog is over sitting next to a family. But, the family says that the dog isn’t theirs, it’s just following them around. So, I’m like, okay, I think we just rescued another dog. Or, at least, will be taking this pour thing in until we can truck it over to Perfect Pet Rescue or Lucky Puppy.

It was a short, squat, mutt-looking puppy with blonde hair and a super sweet disposition. She, I think it was a she, licked my hand when I offered it to her, but was a little too skittish to let me pet her. So, I set off to go find some rope or something else to make a make-shift collar so that we can control her out to my car and not run out into the street while Liz stays with the dog that someone has clearly abandoned.

Have you ever tried to find rope in K-Town on a Friday night when you’re options are a pair of gas stations. Yeah, not happening. There was a corner market, however, and so I trotted over there and asked the proprietor for some rope. When she looked at me weird, I explained that we’d found a stray dog wandering around and wanted to take it to safety before it got hurt. She then went on to ask what the dog looked like, giving a decently accurate description (though not entirely perfect), saying the people who lived next door left their door open all the time, and maybe it got out. I figured it would be worth bringing the dog by once we had a leash, and see if it was the neighbor’s dog.

But I still needed a damn leash.

That’s when a girl in line with another girl and a young guy piped up and said that they lived across the street and that she had rope I could use. For a split second, all those murder scenes I’ve been researching flashed into my head; how ironic it would be. But, murdering was not on the menu, and I followed them to their (rather nice) house a short walk away, and while I was awkwardly chatting with them waiting for a piece of rope to be found, I get a call from a number I don’t recognize.

Did I mention Liz had left her phone in the car? Ya, I should have.

It was the Ho, who proceeds to tell me that the dog is back with its owner and that I can come back and we can go to dinner. I thank the kind group of younguns, they seriously looked like they were all 17, and ran back to the car.

SO…remember the woman in the Laundromat that said the dog wasn’t hers and was just following her around. Yeah, well when Liz had finally developed a rapport enough with the poor thing and was able to pick it up to bring it to the car, THAT FUCKING WOMAN chased her down and asked her what she was doing with her dog.


Apparently, she didn’t want the dog anymore, it was “fighting with their other dog” or some other impossibly bullshit and irresponsible response, and she had left the dog outside the laundromat hoping that someone else would take it.

Guys, seriously…how that is not fucking illegal blows my goddamn mind. Dogs are not wild animals. THEY CANNOT TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES. If you abandon them, they will die. And they will die terrified, just as terrified as any child, because just like a child, their owners are everything to them. Protection, food, affection, boundaries, everything. I live it every day with my dog…and I just don’t understand. I don’t understand how people can be so callous and irresponsible.

Anyway, how Liz didn’t punch that woman in the fucking face, I’ll never know and she has my everlasting respect for not doing so. She did the right thing, gave the dog back, and gave the woman her number and the number of Perfect Pet Rescue so that if she ever feels the desire to “get rid” of the dog again, she can call us first. Which she won’t. And, I’m sure it’s not the only way that dog has been abused by that family, which just makes my stomach turn. But, that’s life, and we cannot insert ourselves into other people’s lives, or make them act differently.

So yeah…that was a very frustrating experience. And it makes me very grateful to have my dog in my life. I give him everything he needs, and in turn he gives himself to me. Cooper would do anything for me, he would die for me, all because he trusts me completely. He has said “I am yours,” and that is the contract that we have. I will give him everything he needs, and he will be mine. Always.

And, I don’t even consider myself a “crazy dog person”…I just have one. Even if I didn’t, I would never, ever have done such a thing. Our animals TRUST us. That’s literally something that took thousands of years against their wild instincts. We made it happen. Breaking that trust is fucking despicable.

That’s all the vitriol I have for tonight, I’ll see y’all tomorrow.