Lamont Diaries continued
Lamont is in the Dog House (Sorta)
My pal, Lamont, just got the tongue lashing of his young life and it put the fear of Buddha in him, for sure, as it is clear to the maddening mongrel that I am no patsy when it comes to imposing strict discipline.
Lamont and I have one inviolable agreement. Do not ever, ever mess with my computer.
"Lamont, if you do something to my computer, pal, I promise you, you will be reincarnated in your next life as a human," I informed him.
Lamont in the Dog House
Lamont, eyes widened with the terrifying vision of such a fate, said: "OK, Nate, I promise. But can I still maim, disable, chew, or eat anything else you own?"
We both agreed to that reasonable compromise.
And, when discussing my computer, I use my most convincing Turkish prison guard extracting information from a convict while under torture tone of voice.
Tonight, the young Lamont returned from his constitutional in "honest" Abraham Lincoln Park. As usual, he was a very happy boy. I repaired to my computer.
The Lamont entertained himself by throwing his rubber ball to himself from one room to another and then racing back and forth to retrieve it. For an hour.
Then disaster struck.
The ball passed within the vicinity of my work station. Lamont bounded like a Jamaican track star past me. Then bounded back to my bed, which, for Lamont, is his home plate.
On that return trip, he caught my computer cord, yanking the entire machine out from under my fingers, from where it flew through the air, tumbling screen over keyboard, severing the cord from the sole source which provides funds for shelter over my head, food on my table, and clothes on my back.
The force of the Herculean strength of the young 10 pound mutt sent the computer tumbling across the room and—bouncing— straight down the stairs.
"Lamont!!@#$?!!" I tore, considerably slower after the computer than Lamont did to lock himself in the bathroom, where he refused to emerge for 30 seconds, fearing for his life.
The computer survived.
For a brief period, Lamont's chances were considerably slimmer.
But my, pal, Lamont, is also no dummy.
In recent weeks he has chewed up my telephone charger cord, computer electrical cord, and the print telephone directory.
I strongly suspect this was a calculated, preemptive strategy to sever my communication infrastructure to prevent me from calling 911, the dog pound, the Immigration and Naturalization Service, or my therapist as Lamont laid the groundwork in preparation for the inevitable eventuality of him causing a computer disaster
I sat the young terrorist mongrel down and said: "Lamont, I told you if you did anything to cause harm to my computer, I would be forced to take drastic measures. I regret to have to cut back on your cookie rations till next week. Believe me, to do this hurts me more than it hurts you."
Furthermore, I informed Lamont, for that seven day period all cookies would be purchased in cheaper bulk bags from Costco discount store instead of the outrageously usurious Organic Vegan ones manufactured by an Oregon lesbian commune.
I purchase these at 'Paws and Their Pushovers' the local neighborhood pet Boutique.
Lamont protested, briefly, but I stuck to my guns, being the uncompromising disciplinarian he knows and fears. ■