Lamont Diaries continued:
When God Made Lamont, He was Just Showin' Off
Each of the umpteen times I woke up in the middle of last night, Lamont was lying there, awake, his head on my belly staring up at me with those watery, droopy, big round eyes.
We both missed our Uncle Buddy. Uncle Buddy went home with his aunt Julia and uncle Rob last night. He was a happy boy.
This morning, at some ungodly hour, Lamont demanded I take him on his morning constitutional. So I surrendered. And Lamont put on my leash and we did.
We rounded the corner out of the alley. And the Great Lamont went on full alert.
There, across the street, was a heavily armed man talking into his wrist with a nearly pornographic waistband of electronic and lethal instruments.
"Who do you work for?", asked Lamont. "Why are you distracting me from my stroll?" His ears were perked stiffly, demanding an answer. Now.
"The Federal Reserve Police," responded the Secret Agent.
"Is everything is under control?" Lamont inquired in a laser focused tone..
"You are good to go," said the affable man. And he winked at Lamont.
Then the sirens neared, as an advancing cascade of black Ford Escalade SUV's zoomed thru the red lights.
It seemed it was Bernard Bernacke, the Chairman of the Federal Reserve Bank, who is said, by reliable sources, to live across the street.
Lamont's question was: "Why are coming home at 0600 and why are you wasting my tax dollars?"
Then the very enticing professional repeated: "You are good to go."
And Lamont moved on. To the front entrance to our Palatial Villa. Where the door was opened. Where a rotund, bearded man was putting his suitcase into a van with New Jersey license plates.
"What is your name," asked Lamont squealing with delight. And he broke free from his leash and ran up and gave "Robin" a smooch.
"Robin" lives in the Lamont's basement. We have never met in the 18 months I have lived here.
"It is nice to meet you," said Lamont. "It is nice to finally meet you! Where are you going?"
"I work for Defence and Intelligence," said "Robin". " It is nice to meet you, finally, Lamont."
"Robin" was not the name I was given over the last year for my never spotted flat mate by my Landlord, the storied Defence Intellegence Agency official, C. Dennison Lane.
Lamont inspected "Robin's" van, smooched him again, and we repaired to our villa.
Lamont is now napping, again. ■