The other day I was discussing dogs, and the way people treat them, and I realized that I did not come completely clean with my relationship with dogs in the past. And I know I am getting long in the tooth, because I cannot remember whether I typed this story via the blog, or I just told someone recently. So if you've read or heard this story before, just suck it up.

My grandmother had a dog named Butch (don't ask). If I was a bit more canine savvy, I could tell you what kind of dog he was and all that jazz. Instead I have to call upon our large pool of dog celebrities for comparison's sake. Butch looked similar to Lassie, except he was all white, with flecks of black. My grandmother went out and got Butch after my grandfather died suddenly in his sleep in 1978. She lived alone in East Cleveland (home of the Bone, the Thugs, and of course the Harmony), and she felt much safer with the companionship of Butch.

So the year was 1985, and I was 10 years old, and my brother and I spent an extended period of time over my grandmother's house. We had Tonka trucks and handheld football games, but our primary source of entertainment was this poor unsuspecting Butch. Clearly this was before cable television..in fact my grandmother died in 2004, and she STILL had no cable...I digress.

So one day I happened to be in my grandmother's room looking for a flashlight, and Butch just followed me in there. It was late at night, and my grandmother needed me to go in the dark attic, so I most definitely needed the aid of a light..aka I was scared of the dark. While in her room I turned on the flashlight, and immediately Butch went crazy, and ran after the light from the flashlight shining on the wall. I laughed, and then a light of my very own went off in my head. I closed the door of my grandmother's bedroom, and I swear I flashed that flashlight on every inch of grandmother's room. This was way better than watching a dog chase its tail. Butch was running all over the room, knocking down my grandmother's perfume, jumping all on the bed, attempting to scale the wall, barking like intruders were attacking him left and right, and at no point did he realize that I was the mastermind and the cause of his angst.

After about 15-20 minutes or so, I got bored and finally went up to the haunted attic. Butch barked at no one in particular for another 15 minutes, then he took his tired thirsty ass to the water bowl, and all was normal again. I don't remember if my brother got in on this action, but I remember I did not get in trouble.

Good times.

Brandy - The O'Jays
So this song is relevant to this entry for two reasons. First of all, this song is about a damn dog. Secondly this song sung by a cousin of my grandmother's (and mine) who was in the O'Jays (Mr. Walter Williams)

I know you strive for symmetry in your blogs, and hopefully I delivered