nina loves her westie

dropped by nina's on the way home from work yesterday. haven't seen her in a month but last week she was unusually bad so i thought it my good christian duty to check in. when she opened the door in her bathrobe and polar bear slippers she looked like she'd lost 50lbs and gained 20years, but she cheered right up when she saw the carton of marlboro reds.

- you're a lifesaver, finn - she breathed, and as she accepted the offering a white blur shot down the stairwell behind her, skittered across the hardwood floor and slid into the doorjamb at my feet. the creature stood up, shook itself and fired off some barks that sounded like asthmatic coughs, then took off back down the hallway, missing the corner and careening into a kitchen chair. after a brief tussle with the legs of the chair, in which it seemed inexplicably tangled, it took off again. we heard the sound of nails chittering on wood floor, then another thump and staccato of hoarse coughs.

- is that a... dog? - i asked, tentatively. nina sighed.
- that's chloe. anna got her a couple weeks ago. she thought i needed something to care for.
- is she blind??
nina snorted.
- no. chloe's sweet and everything, but she's dumb as a fucking potato. in fact, i don't really know what her purpose is. her latest trick is to piddle whenever the doorbell rings, which is a couple times a day now that mrs. whackadoodle next door thinks her tuna casseroles will heal me. i don't know whether she's scared or just wants attention, chloe i mean, though that's probably true of mrs. noseynuts also.
- you two need that dude... you know, that guy on tv, the one that people call when they've tried everything...
- yeah, HIM - she agreed - god what is his name...
we both pondered. inspiration struck us at the same time, but i got the name out first.
- cesar millan. the dog whisperer.
nina shook her head.
- no. i was thinking of dr. kevorkian.