The Tibetan Wolfhound and Beetoven's Seventh

Jack, it turns out is not a Pomeranian.  No.  He has been mislabelled and is actually a Tibetan Wolfhound or possibly a Romanian Desert Fox.  He could even be an African Snake Hunter.  Yes, he could be any of these things, but he cannot be a Pomeranian.  Why?  Because I can not have a Pomeranian.  Whatever he was thought to be, he is no longer.  So now, here is how the conversations go:

"Hey, that's a great looking dog."

"Thanks."

"What kind is he?"

"Tibetan Wolfhound."

"Looks like a Pomeranian."

"That's cause you don't know what a Tibetan Wolfhound looks like."

"Is he dangerous?"

"Only if he thinks you're a wolf.....or rubber ball."

See? So much better than before with the sly laughter.  Oh, but if I happen to run into a attractive woman it sounds like this:

"Oh! He's so cute!"

"Want to touch it?"

"Can I?" 

(She bends down and Jack moves away)

"I have to hold him, he's kinda shy."

"What kind is he?"

"Tibetan Wolfhound?"

"Is he dangerous?"

"Terribly.  He killed a pack of wolves this morning before breakfast."

"He's so cute.  He doesn't look dangerous."

"Trust me, he would kill us all if he got the chance."

"You are terribly brave and strong to take care of such a beast."

"I don't like to brag, but, yes, I am both strong and brave.... and dynamite in the sack."

"I believe it.  Is it getting hotter?"

"Why yes."

"Should we go inside?  My place is right over there."

"Don't mind if I do."

(We go to her place and the story continues, but I will put the rest in a different blog)

Okay, on with the story.....

I rushed home the other day from my super-cool design internship so that I could get Jack and take him to the symphony.  I didn't know if he was into classical -he listens to rock and roll all day, and old country when we drink- but I figured it is always good to get exposure to different culture.  Anyway, I rushed home (a speedy thirty miles per hour since they tore up the Edens) and got Jack and we walked from my place on 16th to Millennium park.  The Grant Park Symphony puts on free shows at the amphitheatre once in a  while, and I wanted to go.  We were a little late, but it was Beethoven's seventh symphony and it sounded really good, so we grabbed a spot on the crowded lawn and settled in to listen. 

Wouldn't you know as soon as we get settled and Jack gets into the second movement with genuine interest (ears up, eyes bright, head bobbling) the fuzz came by to hassle us.

No dogs on the great lawn.

Fine.  I moved.

Just then, some Segway riding guy comes by and kicks us out.  

No dogs in the park: period.

I explain that there are no signs, that Jack is just a music fan like everybody else, and that I am actually a disabled veteran and Jack is my prosthetic brain -something like I lost my mind and all I got was this dog to think for me- but it was no use.  I took Jack for a walk.  I bet he would have been a lot less smug if he wasn't riding some of the coolest wheeled technology, sporting a badge, and especially if he knew what a Tibetan Wolfhound is capable of, but these things didn't occur to me until later. 

Instead, we walked up the lake for a ways and then I took my disappointed little sidekick to Dick's Last Resort.  The waiter there let me have Jack with me out on the patio and even gave him service.  The customers going in and out liked him, and I think the attention bolstered his mood.  The waiter -and I'm sorry I didn't get his name- was bored since nobody was on the patio, and he joined me in conspiring against the park staff.  Both of us agree: there is nothing intimidating about a cop on a segway, and it really just makes me want to push them over.  The guy -let's call him Ted- Well, Ted could juggle knives and he gave Jack some match books with nude women on them (I will post them when I get them scanned and figure out how to post photos).  

We walked back, and sat with a chick who was playing guitar.  She was from Michigan and needed money for some sort of fine.  She didn't go into detail, but it seemed like she needed to get home and the fine was serious.  I donated to the cause and played guitar with her and gave her a bag of peanuts.  I considered offering her a place to stay, but decided against it.  On we went.  

I played chess on the street, and won, but Jack was impatient.  I always wanted to do that, so it was nice to finally get around to it.  It's neat, that there are still enough people who play for someone to make any money on the street.

Overall, it was fun.  I think Jack had fun and I look forward to doing it again.  Now that I am in the process of signing on a home, we should have more time for this business.

I still have to get him on the back of my motorcycle, so stay tuned.