Moose and the Virgin Mary
By Mike Smolarek
Moose had peed on every tree we had passed so far on our late night walk, which was good. Hopefully he’d be done and have nothing left in the tank. There were only three more houses left before we were back at ours but it was always Gladys Johnson’s house on the corner that was the problem. Well, not the house, exactly, but the statue of the Virgin Mary that Gladys had installed on the side of the house next to the sidewalk. The statue called out to Moose every time we walked past it and he responded.
By peeing on it.
On our morning walks I took us around the block the other way, croseds the street once we got to Gladys’s house, then crossed back just to avoid the statue. It’s not that I am that religious, but this is a firmly Irish Catholic neighborhood full of O’Malleys and Marys and Patricks and no good could come from Moose’s indiscriminate bladder. At the same time, he was a dog, and a dog — especially a male– will pee on anything sticking out of the ground. If there were a jade statue of Buddha Moose wouldn’t discriminate; he’d piss a stream right onto the Buddha’s bulging belly then move on to the next thing he could find.
Gladys had already caught Moose peeing on her pussy willows once and blamed him for their stunted growth. She opened her front door as we passed and shouted out in her meek, crackly voice, “You’re dog is ruining my bushes.” She doesn’t hear well anymore so I didn’t bother saying the summer long drought could be what is killing her pussy willows.
Now Moose and I stood on the corner by Gladys’ house. It was cold, raining and late and all I wanted to do was get back in the dry house so I could watch the end of Battlestar Galactica and go to bed. There was no way we were crossing the street just to go around the statue tonight. I tugged on his blue leash and we walked towards the statue. Moose pulled towards it. No matter how hard I tugged against him he was headed directly for it. My only two options were to pull against him and let him drag me there, or just let him run to the statue and do his business. Since he was a ninety five pound beast of a boxer, I chose the latter.
Moose got up to the statue, sniffed the Virgin Mary in the face like he does every time, then lifted his leg and fired….
…to be continued in TWW Issue 2