13 April 2014

The Breeders.


The last time I talked to the Breeders, before this time, was at the 7-11 downtown, sometime in the early '90's. It was after the Pixies broke up, and Kim and Kelley Deal were touring on their own. I think with Josephine Wiggs as well. She wore boots and the Deals wore Converse. It was late at night, and Kelley Deal walked in that bright light ding-ding door, next to the Asteroids machine. Why did we need to be at 7-11 at 2am? I had just seen them play at a club nearby, so I recognized her right away. She was the sister that didn't know how to play guitar. I always wanted to be as cool as Kim Deal (footnote-Dandy Warhols, 1997). This was a long time ago, but I think our whole conversation went like this, we were back there by the beer cooler and Kelley wanted to know where to buy some kinda drug, and I wasn't sure where to send her. I was not helpful to our tourism industry. She seemed pretty nice though. I bet we both had messy hair.

Now I'm talking with the Breeders on the phone. We send each other lengthy emails, and short little messages you type into the message window on facebook. About puppies. Puppies! Litters of them. Not as in the cigarette packs and red solo cups I stuff in my backpack along the trail, but a flock of baby puppies that may soon pop out in the middle of a living room somewhere across the country. Everything's about the litter. When's the litter? Where's the litter? Who's the bitch?

I have to write all this down so I remember who is related to who. So now there's little scraps of paper fluttering around like the springtime butterflies have busted out their cocoons and flown the chyrsallis. I call these spreadsheets and they live in piles on the floor. I ask the Breeders a lot of questions. I think they like answering them. But I'm not really sure. I have probably sent you a message on facebook, because you have a relative. A sister of the mom. A son of the daddy's first litter with the mom from the second litter. The dad's dad was your puppy's mom from the first one, although only seen him on youtube.

Do we say Grandpa when we're talking about puppies? I believe somebody knows an auntie. Ya wanna know how are her hips? There's my friend told her friend who talked to her friend and then all of a sudden I'm talking to somebody about puppies in Canada. I have visited a few puppies a short car ride away. Do I want any of the puppies I can easily drive to in the car? To hold on my lap in person, and see if they like to play with the toy? Of course not. Because I like the future puppies who don't even exist yet that involve airplane rides to far off lands. You know how I got Otterpop? Opened the car door right down the road from our ranch and there she was. A lady dropped Gustavo off at my house. Ruby I bailed out of jail. Before, dogs were who you just ran into and then they were your dog.

Now the idea is, puppies involve cheap tickets on Southwest and rental cars. You are purchasing your next family member instead of picking them up on the street. Talking to the Breeders. Maybe this time a lower chance of meanness, bad eyes, bad legs, bad liver, ammonia in the brain. Who knows? Anything is possible.

Somebody else says stay away from those. Somebody else says stay away from these. I cross my fingers nobody is telling the breeders to stay away from me.

OK, computer. Fitter, happier, more productive. (footnote-Radiohead, 1997). Patch the ears and temperament of this one onto the super drive of this one to the happy friendly this one and the structure of this one over here and maybe it could be black and white spotty at the end of it all and measure exactly under 16". I am thinking about science every day. Order up. Maybe someday, there's a puppy.

3 comments:

Unknown said...

Oh! And all under 16"!

Can't wait!

Unknown said...

If you were to end up with one of these pups, I think I'd die of internet lurker happiness.

Didn't you always want a border collie? (not sure about the under 16"...)


http://brisbeethewhite.livejournal.com/

team small dog said...

Ha! You never know...