May 15, 2005

Back when I still had all of my teeth, Laura and I ate eggs in the morning and then took off for Toronto in her car to fix cameras and find blue lakes.

“I don’t know what to do about my dog,” she said. “I’m afraid it will poop on the floor.”

“Let’s take her with us,” I said.

I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. We made a quick detour to pick up the dog, who as soon as she got in the back seat started squirming, trembling, licking at things, sticking her head out the window and her crotch in my face. Dogs are impossible and I wanted to kill her.

I figured that Laura might dump me if I hurt her puppy, so instead I stuck a camera in the dog’s face which only made her squirm more. In Toronto she attacked creepy men when we let her run lose in the park. Casey is a vicious and wonderful beast with a great bum. Everyone should fear her.

On the ride back she was sleepy and quiet. I was also sleepy after trying to keep up with the dog for an entire day. We got back to Waterloo to search aimlessly for wine and beautiful girls called Helen; Casey the dog was no help in our search.