Friday, February 17, 2012


My Best Friend is Tom you will find the two of us roaming Balboa Park on any given day. Please stop and say hello.

SOMETIMES, you can't teach an old dog new tricks...apparently, I'm one of those dogs. I found out a lot about myself while living with residential living brings out the dysfunctional characteristics in me.

Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed the 2 square meals a day, the smell of roast beef cooking, a place on her bed to sleep, countless belly rubs, new ribbons on my collar almost everyday, but all that gentrified living brought out the crazy in me.

As the countless days passed, I couldn't tell one day from the other. The television was constantly on, the little, white, yapping, fuzzy dog on the otherside of the fence annoyed me, and soon I was daydreaming about holding her by the neck and shaking her. I constantly barked at her to come out, so I could bark, growl and lunge at her. The Zen in me grew fangs. It was no longer a peaceful neighborhood.

Rapidly, I became frustrated and found relief in the tactile feeling of chewing on assorted shoes. Fuzzy slippers, tennis shoes, rubber crocks, strapped high heels, leather loafers....all lent relief with each chew. The backyard was riddled with pit holes I had compulsively dug.

My hindquarters began housing itchy, bitey, pinching, bugs which caused me to knaw at myself incessantly..... Lai took me to a veteranarian, who concluded there were no itchy, bitey culprits on me, and my overall behavior was an emotional reaction to my lifestyle.

Lai could see I needed to return to the Village, where each day held something different, and where I could be with my all my friends especially TOM my caretaker now. I'll never run away again I promise.


There really is no place like home, and home for me is Spanish Village Art Center!

I'll be writing you soon!