CONFESSIONS

This blog isn’t about my past exploits or sordid past; it’s about me taking this journey I’m on to yet another level. I don’t feel comfortable exposing myself publicly as I’ve done lately, it’s against the very core of my nature and it reveals what I’ve painstakingly protected with massive barriers and silence for years, me. It’s a constant internal battle to push the “publish” button on each blog post. Nevertheless, here I grow…

A book I read theorizes that a person needs 10,000 hours of practice to become an expert in some field, my field of expertise was being a Player. This is no boast, only a fact. I have my 10,000 hours. Most men who apply the “Player” label to themselves would pinpoint the age of puberty when they started their “training” at 12-14 years old. I on the other hand began much younger. I remember my “training” beginning around the age of 4. You see, my “training” came from someone who unknowingly took my natural ability to get a read on emotions and honed it to near perfection with hands on instruction. This schooling came from an unlikely source, my mother.

Trust me when I say this isn’t one of those blogs where an adult fails to take responsibility for their actions by blaming their parents for their shortcomings. I love my mother unconditionally and even without all of my friends constantly reminding me, know how FUNomenal the woman is. No buts at all. The conditions my mother experienced and endured in her life played out in mine as well. If you read my mother’s book, Healing for my Hurt: A Journey to Wholeness: Finding My Father, Finding Myself, you can find it online for purchase here, http://www.amazon.com/Healing-Hurt-Journey-Wholeness-Finding/dp/1449004687/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_1/180-6812881-8884148 you’ll see the obstacles she has overcome and why I’m so proud of her. Plus it’s a good read! A synopsis is, my mother grew up without a father until she was 56, then was married, to my father, for 13 years which from my own memories and recollections was loud, angry, painful and unfulfilling. Imagine being a woman who has either had a lack of interaction with a man she wants to know desperately, her father, or an unhealthy interaction with a man she wanted to love, her husband. Then I was born. I was groomed to be utterly attentive to my mother’s innate needs. I say that with no malice or regret. I love my mother through and through. As I aged, I became increasingly adept at knowing when and how to provide comfort to my mother. I learned how to apply the emotional salve she craved expertly. I know how much my mother suffered, even if I didn’t entirely understand why. I empathized and did what I could to lesson her pain, I never asked twice for anything, never complained no matter how bad it was, I was a midget stoic. Can you see how this “training” supersedes anything any man could acquire? As a child, I knew I was meant to do something that was imperative, but lacking adequate comprehension I saw it as a task, something to do before watching cartoons or going out to play. My skill at detecting the subtle nuances of a woman’s emotional needs is unparalleled. This talent in itself can be a wonderful thing. I believe, however, due to other circumstances, my learning to connect emotionally was nourished while my being comfortable enough to allow the reciprocation was stunted.

If we could look over the course of my adult life, you see the same pattern over and over again, me providing what a woman desires, on every level. I plugged myself directly into their wants and went about it in such a way that they were convinced we had a spiritual connection, that we shared something unique and special. Many were willing to stake everything on that belief. I on the other hand was only doing what I’d been conditioned to do, a task to complete, a chore if you will. The level of confusion, frustration and misunderstandings on both sides were sky high. I couldn’t comprehend why such a big deal was made about something I did for everyone, while women couldn’t understand why I fought against what they wanted to give so desperately. I’m not saying it was always mindless work for me. At times, with certain people, and I hope they know who they are, it wasn’t a job, but came naturally as breathing. Unfortunately, I still hadn’t learned to allow them within my walls. I honestly had no idea what was meant to be done. I resisted all attempts to reveal Carl. My level of discontent was always in the danger zone. I could only go a certain amount of time around people before I became almost physically ill. Even being in the presence of others could be too much for me and I would become a recluse for days, hiding out in my apartment completely disengaged from the world. Bad enough when your single making friends worry, almost unforgiveable in a relationship. I think what I’m trying to say is, people could always sense this huge space I placed between them and myself, yet, they were always drawn to me and intrigued by how quickly I was able to get them to feel safe and comfortable. That was something I saw as my purpose, to appease. My distance was created because I was afraid of the unknown. I knew what to expect when people opened up to me, but it was all uncharted territory when I was expected to do the same. Now, I am attempting to map that territory.

I am a work in progress in every sense of the word. I am attempting to allow people past my buffer zone and peak behind the curtain to catch a glimpse of the wizard. It’s difficult on many levels for me, but I’m trying. A couple of people I consider to be friends, good friends because I care about both of them immensely, sent me emails. I believe their emails were sent with only the best intentions. These emails questioned the appropriateness of making my journey so public. Both friends made very valid points about why it might not be the best way to go about things. I however explained to them, for too long I kept EVERYONE out and lived in a self imposed solitary confinement, opening the door for all to see forces me to clean up the mess. Much harder to hide anything, and I’m tired of hiding. I think it was Albert Einstein who said insanity is defined by doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results. It’s time to do something different, with that, more blogs to follow. Day 28 still learning…

WEDNESDAY

It was 1:43am and I had long given up trying to sleep. I had tried counting everything, focusing on releasing energy, meditating, all of it. My brain was so preoccupied I didn’t even realize I’d left my hallway door open and Chewy had slipped into my bedroom. This normally would be met with a swift rebuke, but I hardly noticed until I changed my position from staring at the ceiling to surveying the clutter in my bedroom and my eyes locked on Chewy, who was half concealed in the jeans I’d stepped out of earlier. For a second, I believed I was only in a strange dream about not being able to sleep and Chewy was some symbolic representation I’d have to decipher once awake. When I raised my head slightly, Chewy saw this as an invitation and stood at the edge of the mattress whining to be petted and played with. I glanced at the clock again and figured a walk would do both Chewy and I some good. Chewy was overjoyed of course; unexpected walk to a dog is like hitting 5 numbers on the 6 number lottery.

Outside I tried calming myself down, willing myself to relax. It didn’t really help. I was seeing her tomorrow. It was the first time I’d seen her since I told her to leave. She wanted to stay, fought to stay, but I fought harder to keep my eyes sealed and heart cold. It’s been a lifetime since I’ve looked into her eyes and I’d get to see her on Wednesday. My insecurities were playing horror films on the screen of my psyche about how it would play out. I had the jitters like a recovering addict in a room full of powdery temptation.

After I emerged from my depression cave and basked in the light, reacquainting myself with the colors of the world, my heart literally called her name, asked for her. But, there was no answer. You can’t expect a person not to listen when you tell them to go so many times. Rarely does reality match our expectations. My reality? She has a new boyfriend who she cares for very much. She feels he could be the one. More importantly, she wants him to be. I went into Wednesday fully aware of that. Still, I was walking Chewy at 2:30am because the thought of sitting across from her sent copious amounts of adrenaline surging directly to my gut, my soul was aflame.

Wednesday. She looked breathtaking. Interesting the things you fail to see with your eyes closed. I saw her for her, this incredible woman who I love incredibly. Memory is not only stored in the brain. I believe other body parts can hold memories and ache at loss. My fingertips longed to caress her jaw line, be run through the length of her dark hair, trace the contours of her full lips. But in her eyes, I saw another. Her love is hers to give as she pleases and she has decided. I wanted to tell her so much, but “I must have rehearsed my lines, a thousand times, but when I see you they don’t come out right..” I was so dumb struck. What I wanted to say was, “Even in my darkest moments, I was still drawn to you. Even when I fought so hard to make you leave, you loved me. I was numb when I let you walk out of my apartment. Yet, the moment my heart began to sing again, it was your name it sang clear and sweet. I thought loving you made me weak when in actuality it makes me more powerful than I ever thought possible. Even if you are not here with me, I am finally not afraid to say I love you.”

I could go on, but this is a blog, not a book. You know what was so great about that Wednesday? I stopped being afraid. I learned the hard way many years ago you can’t make someone your destination, your motive or your inspiration for aspiring to change. If the ending you’ve created in your dreams doesn’t come true, you become even more bitter and disillusioned than before. I’m not afraid because I know what is in my heart is true and real. I’m on a journey, a lifelong journey. Maybe my path and this amazing woman who captured my heart will run parallel again in the future, then we might be ready to continue on together. If life has other plans, I’m not even worried. Love is energy and it cannot be destroyed, only changed. Like her, it is my love to give and I may choose and decide anytime I wish. I have an entire life of Wednesdays awaiting me. Day 19 and still going…

TAILS FROM THE BOO BOO SIDE

I know it may seem like I don’t love Chewy with my observations of him. I do. The lil flurry nut licker has created his own space in my heart and made it has own. In saying that, my frustration level with this dog reaches untold heights with some of the stuff he does.

Every living thing on the planet has to expel excess waste from its system. I don’t know any of them though, that make as big of a production of it as Chewy does. The truly odd thing is he didn’t always do it! Now that he’s all of 1 year old, he’s picking up some odd habits that are seriously undermining my confidence as a dog owner.

You know the little routine dogs do right before they drop a deuce? That’s make a stinky for my European friends. The routine is they find a spot they like, turn around in a circle a few times, then deliver the package, really easy, very simple, very effective. It takes 5 seconds at most for them from start to finish. Chewy? He will do the sniffing around bit normal enough, but the turning around a few times he needs to work on. He freakin’ makes me dizzy from the number of times he turns around. Then he stops, changes direction, then does the same thing again! I built a special device that records dog’s thoughts. What?! Oh, so a black man can’t invent miraculous inventions?? Anyway, through the power of my amazing device I created we now know what Chewy contemplates while deciding where to take a dump. “OkOkOkOk, maybe here, or here.. or here. Nonono all wrong, all wrong. Here might be good. Wait! No. Wait! Yes! Actually… OkOkOkOk. Uuumm…Yeahyeahyeah, this is perfect! Then again…” It’s like he’s the doggy Woody Allen. Then, 5 minutes of chasing his tail, he looks up at me with this look that says, “I can’t go with you looking at me. You make me nervous.” Cheese and rice Chewy! Just cop a squat and handle your business! You’re a dog! Crapping in public is fine because I’m the one who has to pick your shit up!

And lately, Chewy is on some sadistic level bowel movements with WHERE he’s craping lately. Now, he’s taking dumps on dog crap already on the ground! Once is luck, twice is unusual, four times in a row and the little fucker is doing it on purpose. Why? No clue, but it’s just wrong on so many levels. Damn you Chewy! I wanna be able to pick your shit up without having moral and ethical dilemmas. Oh, something else unnatural he’s doing, backing his ass up on trees that have grown at an angle so he can crap on a tree. (-_-) Soo NOT funny. I shit you not, I mean, can you imagine the level of cunning and deviousness needed to come up with something like that?? Taking a shit ON a tree?? Not the roots people! But the muthafuggin TRUNK of the tree! Imagine walking down a street and seeing a black man scraping shit off of a tree muttering to a dog, “Who taught you this Chewy?? Did you learn this from your brother Brutus? Shittin on a tree, a tree Chewy? A muthafuggin TREE?? I’m taking yo ass to a doggie psychologist cause I know this stems from something DEEP!” You’d think I was crazy wouldn’t you? To make it worse, as I said before, Chewy is only hearing, “Blahblahblah blah blah blahblah Chewy. Blah blah Chewy.” I feel obligated to scrape the shit off the tree because it’s winter. My over-thinking self can just picture the stuff freezing on the tree and some lil kid or short bus rider walking by thinking it’s some new exotic urban fungi. Next thing you know I have a letter in the mail from a lawyer being sued for poisoning someone’s kid.

Another thing Chewy does which I’m trying to break him of is taking things off my coffee table and chewing them up. He’s especially fond of headphones, Airwaves chewing gum, business cards and the last, toothbrushes. Well, Chewy doesn’t chew on toothbrushes, he eats them. No joke! He really eats them. I left an old toothbrush on the table, forgetting to throw it away. I went to work, came back a few hours later and I only found half a toothbrush. Really, half of it was gone, disappeared, vanished. I thought Chewy had snapped it in two and hid the other half. Didn’t think too much about it, but in the back of my mind I kinda sorta thought he could’ve eaten it, but wasn’t convinced. I give Chewy the empty toilet paper spools, which he loves, and rips them to shreds, but not EAT. Well, I took Chewy with me to Karl-Marx Straße later that day. For people who don’t know Berlin at all, Karl-Marx Straße is like the ghetto Mecca shopping area of my neighborhood. This street is always packed also, especially on Fridays like it was that day. I’m waiting with Chewy outside H&M for someone to come out and Chewy starts yelping really loud. Of course everyone turned around to see why, including me. Chewy is one of the quietest dogs ever. He never makes a peep! I love him for that. So when he makes noise, I take it seriously. Then his yelps got even more desperate and louder. I was on my knees checking him all over to see what was wrong, speaking to him softly, petting him to calm him down, nothing was working. Then, Chewy assumes the position, the boo boo position. I’m like “Uh-oh”, we’re on a busy street and this of course is the ONE time I’m caught with no plastic poop bags. With the amount of noise Chewy is making I’m worried he might be giving birth. His cries get louder and shriller; a couple of people even stop to ask me if he’s Ok. Then, out of Chewy’s ass pops a damn aquarium pebble. You know those rocks they put in the bottom of aquariums that are all multi-florescent colored? It looked exactly like that. I of course was like WTF?? I’m honestly baffled. Chewy is still pushing and yelping and more aquarium rocks come out of his butt. Then, an actual turd came out next. It literally looked like someone had taken this piece of crap and rolled it around in a Trix cereal batter. It was a kaleidoscope turd of green, blues and yellows. But if you put that one up to your eye I don’t think you’d see anything pretty. This homeless guy selling the Motz (a homeless paper) ambles over to give me his two cents worth, “I’d take that dog food back if I were you. Not doing your dog right in the stomach.” You think I would intentionally feed my dog food that makes his crap look like THAT?? Get outta my face. By now, Chewy is looking hurt UP. His legs are trembling, he’s still whimpering and crying out, he’s pleading with his eyes to help him. What could I do? Then he pushed out another alien turd. This time though, I recognized something… are those..wait…are those toothbrush bristles? You are pushing out a hard bristle toothbrush Chewy?? Poor Chewy! No wonder he was in so much pain. I bet those bristles were wearing his little asshole OUT. Finally he finished. Chewy was fucking ESTATIC! He was doing the Chewy dance where he twists his body so his head is near his butt and shakes his tail so hard his entire body shakes. Only problem now is, we’re on a main street with no plastic bag or even tissues. The person I was waiting for came out of H&M and I pointed to the pile of LSD excrement Chewy produced. She was like, “Oooooooh, what’s thaaaaat? Wait!? Is that kaka?? Ew! What did he eat!?” I still get tears in my eyes from laughing so hard thinking about that. She thought it was pretty at first. She sounded like a little kid seeing cotton candy for the first time, then realizing there is a bugger on it. Whew! Oh man, I think Chewy learned his lesson. Either way, that’s my dawg!

AROUSAL

You know those nightmares where even after you’ve woken up and began your day, the residual chill and fear you experienced the night before clings to the crevices of your psyche like sand between your toes after a day at the beach? That was the last 2 years of my life. I felt like I was in this fluid nightmare state whose grasp I couldn’t completely break free of. The inexplicable thing about the entire situation is, I wasn’t aware of the depth of my despair. I had no idea how far into the abyss I had waded. I’d created this alternate universe, a bizzaro world if you will of epic proportions, I wasn’t deserving of love, I was a fool to believe anyone would ever love me, no one was to be trusted and worst of all, my love had no power. The list goes on and on, and on..and on… I was so profoundly lost that the very notion of discovering a way out, finding me in the darkness seemed unfathomable, I was broken, but didn’t know what was broken and even if I did know where the breakdown had occurred, I was terrified I didn’t have the tools to rectify the situation. That feeling, frustration stacked on top of confusion, pressed upon disillusion caught upon insecurity creates a hopelessness of the worst kind.

I know I’m not the only person who has shed hot tears of dismay at night while writhing in tangible agony feeling powerless to make the aching stop, then, at daybreak, clutching at mental hooks to keep your sanity as you sleep walk through another meaningless day. The only sound is the loneliness you’re surrounded in echoing off the walls you’ve barricaded yourself behind. The only sensation the change between utter numbness or extreme fear. In quiet moments you find yourself wishing for that magical sleep where once you open your eyes you've begun the next lifetime where things may be better because they can't get any worse.

This desolate picture I’m painting only consists of swirls of gray, splashes of black and dabs of indigo blue. Yet, I had other colors available. There was a full pallet of intense yellows, brilliant greens and fiery reds ready to be incorporated into my life. I just was blind to anything outside my tunnel vision of depression.

Even now, as I squint in the light of remembrance, I sit back in amazement when confronted with the simple truth. I was never imprisoned in a world of darkness; I only had my eyes squeezed tight to brilliance. My solitude was entirely self-imposed. While I believed I was fighting against a current of blackness, in reality I was fighting against the arms of those who loved me reaching out to embrace me. When my insecurity had warped my mind and convinced me I was adrift in a sea of criticism, in actuality I was floating in a calm lagoon of encouragement. Worst of all, when I felt there was no one, with only the reverberations of emptiness to answer my cries for help, those rebounds were the voices of loved ones pleading with me to only open my eyes.

Now, after so many lost moments of being closed so long to the flame of possibility, my eyes are finally open. Completely, 100% open and I can see for miles in all directions and I can see the smiles of everyone who were waiting expectantly for me to rejoin them again in this life. Well, almost everyone… When people ask me now how I am doing, I always answer truthfully, amazing. Ninety days without sex is not my goal for the small minded people who read this, learning to always keep my eyes open is the ultimate target, open and facing the radiance of me. Day 10, and the learning continues…

RIPPLE EFFECT

This wasn’t meant to be my next blog, but when does life ever go as planned? I have to admit, I didn’t expect my Cold Turkey blog to cause such a… famous people make splashes, so I think ripple will suffice. I’ve had some concerned phone calls, questioning emails and a couple of enquiring text messages. This blog is nothing at all against the people who contacted me in the least. This is more an observation if you will…

I believe, and this is only my opinion because I could not possibly know the true motivation of a person. However, I believe some people read that blog and look upon it as a reflection of my interaction with them or couldn’t separate our history to read it as it should be read. This is my decision which was made with me in mind first and foremost.

I am sure it was shocking to read such an open and vulnerable account of where I’m going in my life and what I am attempting to leave behind. For quite a long time, I’ve spent a more time building barriers than bridging them. I can comprehend the range of thoughts it might have stirred in people who know me intimately, makes complete sense on every level. For people to mistake this trip as one they were invited on? Well, that’s something else. This blog is only a window, a glimpse and nothing more. I decided to make MY experiences public so it will keep me all the more honest in the coming days. I can fool some of you, but not all of you.

Now, I’m not saying I’m walking this path alone. I sincerely hope my friends and family will accompany me on this journey. But, the direction, pace and incentive are purely mine and mine alone. I am inspired to be a better me. No, I am inspired to be a great me, my definition of great, not anyone else’s. You have no say so in defining my life as I should have no say so in defining yours. Me being too concerned about what others think in the first place contributed to me being blown off course.

If MY blog caused you some confusion, stress, anger or resentment than I suggest you consider your own internal pilgrimage. If reading MY blog caused you to nod your head in admiration then, stand on the sideline and cheer me on, walk with me when I seem to need a friend or hand me some Gatorade when you see I’m faltering. Better yet, provide a brotha with some free porn cause that’s as close as I get to sex for another 86 days!

Word of advice, look below the surface. If you truly know me, you know how strong-willed I am. I put my mind to something I always accomplish it, FUNomenal GmbH thank you very much. No sex is only a small part of the equation, there is something more grandiose I want to achieve.

While you’re trying to figure out what that is, I’ve got some growing to do.

Day 4, and the journey continues…

OBSERVATIONS OF CHEWY

By now I hope you’ve read my observations on a (small) dog. Those observations were extremely general. They could be about any (small) dog. Now it’s time to talk about MY (small) dog, CHEWY!

The person who gave Chewy to me specifically stated she felt Chewy and I would be a great match because we were so much alike. I took that as a compliment at first… Now!? Not so sure about that. If it’s true that a dog reflects their owners, then I’m just weird. What I’ve observed about Chewy is..

1.) I understand as a small dog you have to be more aware of things in a world where 99% of things are bigger than you. However, Chewy is afraid of the most random stuff! Squeaky toys, Chewy is afraid of squeaky toys. I can understand him not LIKING squeaky toys as the sound is hella annoying. But AFRAID of them? Don’t get it at all. Before Chewy came to live with me, I went out and bought all these doggy things for him, as a good dog owner should. One of the things I bought was a rubber chicken that squeaks when you press it. Maaaaan, I took that thing out and before I even squeezed it Chewy was looking at me like, “I know that’s not what I think it is!” The first squeeze made his ears stand straight up, he leaned away as far as he could from me and lifted his butt up in preparation. Preparation?? Yes, preparation for the second squeeze. When I pressed that damn chicken a second time Chewy was OUT! Ran his ass right under my sofa. Actually, I have these fake wood linoleum floors so Chewy couldn’t get traction at first. He looked like Scooby Doo with his legs moving real fast but not moving anywhere. It took me 15 minutes and 3 of his favorite snacks to coax him out from under my sofa, poor dog. After that I called my friend and she told me, “Oooh yeah, he’s afraid of squeaky toys.” You think??

The other thing Chewy is afraid of is plastic bags. Not just big plastic bags which I can see. I mean, it does make a lot of noise when I shake out a new bag to put in the trash can so him freaking out over that is understandable. What is NOT understandable is him being afraid of the little poop bags. Little poop bags Chewy? You are so NOT gangsta! When I’m trying to get up his smelly business, Chewy is pulling as hard as a can on the leash acting like he’s having a conniption fit to get away from the plastic bag. Really Chewy, relax, take a deep breath, plastic poop bags don’t bite.

This next fear of Chewy truly confuses me on every level. Chewy is downright terrified of me putting on his winter jacket. He’s not afraid of the jacket or sweater or whatever I put on him in itself, only when I go to put it on him. I can put the jacket or sweater next to him and he’s whatever about it. Pick it up and I move towards him and he’s trembling from fear. I could sorta kinda see if the jackets were ugly, but they aren’t! They are chic as HELL! One is this black hoody pullover with silver skull and crossbones all over it, another is this button up Army camouflage jacket and he even has this other little army camouflage shirt that says PUNK on the bag. That’s some gangsta ish man! Oh, oh, he even has this other jacket with a fur collar. Chewy is seriously flossin when he has that thing on! But he’s terrified of them! Do you think in a former life he was a mental patient and they remind him of the straitjackets they used to put him in?? Cause Chewy is crazy so anything is possible. I mean, when I put it on him, he starts running around in circles in my apartment and acting real weird. He’s so small he is shivering in 45 seconds if I don’t put him in something so I have to make him wear something. But as soon as we get outside, he’s all fine! He’s running around without a care in the world. Explain that one please!

The last thing Chewy is afraid of defies all explanations. If someone has a logical reason for Chewy’s last fear I’m all ears. My dog, Chewy, is afraid of riding in a car. Yes, you read it right! Chewy is afraid of riding in cars. Has anyone ever heard of a dog being afraid to ride in a car?? A dog being afraid to ride is like hearing about a black man who doesn’t like a big behind on a woman. If a person told you, you wouldn’t believe them! Chewy detests riding in cars like Republicans hate fair elections… I mean, can’t be because he hardly rides in a car can it? Maybe he was a cat in a former life or something? Madness I tell ya.

2.) Next thing I’ve observed about Chewy is.. and as a parent it really pains me to say this, but I know it’s true. Chewy is a straight nerd. He is the Steve Urkel of dogs. He is! None of the other dogs in the neighborhood really like Chewy. After comparing Chewy’s behavior to other dogs, I get it, I do get it. Chewy is too.. well… he’s too.. He’s just too much Chewy too soon! People LOVE how Chewy is all excited to meet someone new and all friendly licking them all over, which pisses me off but I’ll speak about that later. Dogs, they hate that shit. TRUST me. Chewy doesn’t just sniff a dogs ass, he literally licks it. As a “parent”, I’m always like, “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew Chewy! You are SO not licking me with that tongue after this!!” After about ooooh, 2 seconds, dogs get PISSED at Chewy and try to bite him. When I take Chewy to the dog park and I hear a dog growling and barking at another dog, I know Chewy is involved because he pissed off some other dog. A strange thing is, Chewy does not hump your leg, EVER. Doesn’t do it and seems to have no interest in sex, UNTIL when a female is around. Even if other male dogs are around who aren’t trying to mount the female dog, Chewy is. Even when the female dog has bitten Chewy repeatedly, he’s still trying. I’m all for persistence, but damn Chewy take a hint! She ain’t interested! I don’t know why, but it is so damn embarrassing to having your little ass dog chasing a female Cujo around a park trying to climb up her hind legs to have sex. I have to physically go and remove his lil horny ass from the other dog and leave the area. I mean, where does he get that from, this unnatural pursuit of sex that supersedes everything in his brain except copulate?? Where could he possibly have gotten that from? It’s like he’s seen it before and he’s trying to mimic the same actions or something..Madness I tell ya.

The other thing I think that makes Chewy so damn nerdy is his lack of doggy senses. I mean, he can smell great and see amazingly, but it’s his lack of that innate ability to get a feel for a situation that does Chewy in every single time. I will have Chewy off of the leash in the park and he’ll see another dog. His ears will go straight up, his body language switches to, “What’s this!?!?! Another dog’s ass to lick!?!? Yippee!!” He gets all excited.. I’m behind him thinking, “Chewy, that dog looks like it’s having a really bad day. Maybe you should let that one go.” Not Chewy, he literally BOUNDS over to this other dog that is walking like they just got fired from their job as a guard dog and found out their wife is sleeping with his best friend. If you’ve seen Chewy, then you know he really bounds! He looks like a fairy size gazelle or something when he runs. It’s almost heartbreaking to see him so shocked when the other dog snaps and chases him away. But he doesn’t learn! He keeps on doing the same thing with every dog! How can a dog so damn smart have no power of recall?? If I a human can tell a dog is not in a Chewy kinda mood, then Chewy should certainly be able to tell, but he can’t. Or, he doesn’t give a fuuuuuuuuck! “You gonna love me dammit!!” LOL!

3.) I believe Chewy has a bladder problem. How else can you explain a dog the size of a smurf needing to pee on every damn thing in sight? I know it’s not normal either! I had Chewy’s brother Brutus for a couple of days one time.. Lord let me tell you that is an observation in itself too! But having the two of them around, I saw that behavior Chewy engaged in, Brutus didn’t engage in. Then I started looking a little closer at other dogs peeing habits. I mean, out of 10 trees, the average dog will pee on about 4 trees. Chewy?? He will pee on all 10 trees, plus the garbage can, plus the old McDonald’s bag, plus the park bench and just for good measure; he’ll pee on another dog. THAT is Chewy. I shit you not, Chewy is into Golden Showers. I’ve seen him pee on other dogs before. I’m sure there is some psychological reason for it, but I haven’t quite found out what it is yet. Until then, I’m going to go with Chewy is a damn freak and I swear he’s NEVER ever everevereverever seen me doing no mess like that! Peeing on other dogs on purpose?? Chewy (shaking my damn head).

I’m thinking I’ll break these observations into two parts. Chewy is just so, Chewy so I gotta get this stuff out so the world can tell me if I’m the weird one for thinking Chewy is weird, or he really is from another planet.