The Tankster

Sunday weather was way too nice. We wanted to be outdoors and we needed a long walk, so off to Third Street Promenade we went. A couple of years ago, when we first got the mutt, he used to go after that fountain right next to the deli, but Alpha Dog remedied that problem, and Tank  now completely ignores the puking triceratops.

What a well-behaved doggy. When another dog passes by, he just looks and keeps on going. When we were walking right across the street from the Santa Monica pier, there was a sudden ruckus of the canine kind. It was between a Golden Retriever and another large breed terrier of some kind. I don’t know who started it, but they were straining at the ends of their leashes, trying to get at each other. Tank didn’t even look. He was probably thinkin’, stupid dogs – they need an ass kicking from the Dog Wheeeesperer…. He doesn’t need Cesar except for one or two bad habits that I’ll get into later.  Yes, we are Cesar fans because Cesar uses simple pack leader techniques. It’s common sense, really. And he’s makin’ millions off it. Behave like a pack leader and discipline your dogs the way canines discipline each other. Makes sense, don’t it. Dogs are part of the family but they are DOGS, not humans. Jeeeeeez… Dogs don’t need any New Age mumbo-jumbo bullshit like yoga and full-body Swedish massages. They don’t need to meditate to Yanni, and they don’t need any herbal, organic concoctions to make them “healthier”. Exercise, discipline, and affection. That’s a dog’s life.  In Tank’s case: food, affection, discipline, and (occasional) exercise.

So, usually when we walk Tank, we hear whispers, giggles, oohs, ahhs, or some paranoid mom screaming to her kid, “Don’t touch that pit bull!” Today, it was, “Hey, it’s Hooch,” from one dude, and “That’s a cool-lookin’ dog” from a homeless lady sitting at a bus stop. Someone else asked how old our Bordeaux puppy is, and when Alpha Dog told her he’s already full-grown and jokingly told her he’s part Bordeaux, part Chihuahua, she took the comment a little too seriously, and decided that no, there’s no possibility of that ever happening and let’s not debate about it.

When I was waiting outside the mall while Alpha Dog went inside to use the facilities, I was sittin’ there thinkin’, wow they’re gonna tear down this place where they filmed that one exterior shot in Fast Times at Ridgemont High. It should be declared a historic landmark, don’tchya think? I was in Fast Times-land, thinking about Spicoli and All American Burger and Mr. Hand when a dude sat down beside me and pulled out a smoke. He smiled and appeared nonthreatening, but from the glazed eyes and thin build and a slight level of disheveled-ness about him, I thought maybe he was planning to hit me up for some change so he can go seek his next high before he crashed. “Nice dog,” he said. I thanked him. “Is that a pet bull?” I wanted to tell him, no he’s not a bull, but instead, I simply told him he was a mutt and probably part Staffordshire. He nodded and continued smoking. I should have asked him if he needed directions to rehab, that not only would they give him a place to stay and food to eat, but they have much better drugs there. And he can meet people with common interests. But Alpha Dog came just then and we resumed our walk.

We strayed off Third St. and onto Arizona, then turned on Ocean Ave. to head back down toward Santa Monica Place. There were city notices posted everywhere on the buildings on Ocean Ave., announcing the arrival of new highrise hotels and restaurants. I was bummed that the cluster of old Victorians was going to be torn down to make way for a bunch of soul-less, manufactured hotels. I love old houses and buildings. There was even one house there with an actual real live sitting parlor, complete with ornate oak fireplace mantel, elaborate ceiling cornices, and detailed wainscotting. When was the last time you were in a house with a sitting parlor?? Yes, parlors get me excited.  If I had the money, I’d go around buying up old property and restore ‘em all…. keep the original structure intact as much as possible… tear away layers of linoleum flooring to discover hardwood from a century ago…. COOL. There was a worn, tired, beat up-looking Victorian with a screened-in covered porch that I admired everyday on my way to work. Last week, it was a pile of scrapwood. SUCKS. Maybe that’s why I hate contemporary-style architecture so much. The houses with the sleek lines and cold walls, they remind me of museums and warehouses. Those things were built over where history once stood. They’re really prominent in the beach cities. Where cozy beach cottages once baked in the Pacific sun, with surfboards leaning against a covered porch, bikes strewn over the lawn, and a BBQ grill waiting for the weekend parties, there are now a bunch of 5,000 sq. feet Mediterranean mansions with rooftop Jacuzzis and four-car marble-floor garages. Whatfriggingever.

So anyways, after our Ocean Ave. walk, we mosied on over to Petco on Wilshire. We needed to stock up on Tank treats. They had Doggles there, and I couldn’t resist. Poor Tank. He sensed another photo shoot, I’m sure, but he stood still and cooperated as I tried the sunglasses on him. Who said the life of a supermodel was easy anyway? Everyone has to work for their food, after all. Unless you’re an heiress and you have access to your family’s money in times of need, except for the 45 days out of your entire life when you have to be locked up in the county jail to be punished for being stupid. Or you grow up a geek and end up the richest dude in the world. Then you don’t have to work if you don’t want to. Tank can get away with anything ’cause he’s so damn cute. But he’s gotta work at it if he’s going to be America’s Next Top Model.

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