Lamont Diaries continued:
Lamont Gets Sucker Punched
My pal, Lamont, today got his first taste that the world isn't all peas and gravy.
Lamont, his Uncle Buddy, and I went to Abraham Lincoln Park this afternoon. First Lamont and Buddy sniffed and peed their way down the sidewalks.
Lamont, as is his civic duty, spotted a discarded Starbucks Grande ice coffee plastic cup and duly retrieved it. Then he pranced proudly down the avenue displaying his discovery to build public support.
When we came to the crosswalk, the rush hour traffic screeched to a halt, beeped their horns and flashed their lights, signaling that the Great Lamont had the right of way. And we crossed. Lamont, looking a tad snooty, ambled purposefully but slowly holding the Starbucks debris aloft, his snout angled north, so all could take notes.
Then, after discreetly pooping, we entered the pavilion whose centerpiece is the statue of the American hero Abraham Lincoln, our first mentally ill gay president.
First Lamont was greeted by one long time pal, a cheerful drug addled homeless regular. "Here comes trouble. You better be watchful, Lamont, or the police are gonna give you a ticket," he winked and smiled.
Then, Lamont, because he wanted to and it was the right thing to do, went over and woke up his increasingly scraggly by-the-day friend, the homeless drunk, Bernard, asleep sitting on the bench. Bernard is skittish of dogs. But he loves Lamont.
"Hi pal! How are you doing today," said Bernard. Lamont gave him a sincere smooch and whimpered a high pitched hello. And Bernard smiled and his eyes crinkled, maybe for the first time all day.
And we went over to the dog field. That is where Lamont got in Big Trouble.
Lamont and Uncle Buddy greeted the other fellows, and then vacuumed up the communal water bowl.
Then two killer mutts ambled over. They sniffed and stiffened, trying to look cool. And shifty eyed, growled silently.
When Lamont, being Lamont, insisted on bestowing a smooch, one of the beasts erupted, tackling the young Lamont and grabbing his neck in his fiendish jaws in a death grip, throwing my pal into the air and then holding him down in a vicious, violent criminal assault.
Lamont squealed and, his substantial tail tucked between his legs, attempted a valiant, shocked, tactical retreat.
Then Uncle Buddy intervened. With the authority and respect of age, Buddy grabbed the knucklehead ne'er do well by the neck and threw him aside, freeing the confused young Lamont, who then retreated between my legs.
And stood erect but scared witless, and attempted a feeble, fairly ridiculously sounding growl of protest.
And Buddy secured the perimeter.
When the kerfuffle was brought under control, Lamont gave Uncle Buddy a prolonged smooch. And Uncle Buddy was very proud of his heroic deed.
And then the three of us, all happy with each other, came home and had extra cookies.
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