The Chronicles of Ray

I always swore that I would never write a navel-gazing blog because I honestly find blogs about what random people are doing and thinking vis a vis their lives really boring. Every day I try valiantly to have something on the Rouge Wave that pertains to screenwriting, writing or entertainment. And as I approach the two year anniversary of the Rouge Wave (December-somethingth) I think I've done a fairly good job of maintaining a focus. Even on those days when it's tough to find something to say - anything - that is of entertaining value. But today you'll have to forgive me, Wavers. Because today I am particularly tired.

Because of Ray.

I have said here on the Rouge Wave that I keep crazy hours - often up until 2am and not really functional before 9:30am. But that was before Ray. You see, Ray arrived unexpectedly yesterday evening wearing a hooded black sweatshirt and little else. And, as it turns out, he's an early riser.

Ray is a 12-week old, chocolate brown Chihuahua puppy. He's been very busy having to go potty and laying claim to all corners of the house. My Shih Tzu, the one that everybody is always talking about dognapping because she's so cute is quite confused by this new, animated toy who ferociously guards his lair, his one little stuffed toy and his dignity.

I grew up with a lot of animals; chickens, pigs, horses and rabbits. For real. I grew up in the country and my dad was very into animal husbandry. I was a proud member of the 4-H when I was in elementary school. Do they have that anymore? Our dogs were always big, tough and definitely outdoor dogs. They killed stuff and got into porcupines and skunks. Games like "fetch" and "catch-the-frisbee" were unknown to our family dogs whereas "terrify-the-chickens" was a big favorite. Our dogs never slept inside, much less on a bed. They ate food that came in 50 pound bags, served up with the rattle and clank of an old coffee can.

Not Ray. Ray is a purebred puppy that somebody bought, along with all the most expensive accessories, including, I am told, a $60 collar. But then Ray's previous owner decided he was too much work. Since he's a puppy and all. So yours truly is the beneficiary. Having to get up so early, I sleepily took Ray with me to the couch where we curled up and read a script first thing this morning. Ray is a good note-encourager, as he curls up in a tight little ball tight up against me while I turn pages. At first that sound startled him but he'll soon get used to that.

I was never the type to dress up my dog in clothes but thank god Ray came with his sweatshirt since the evenings have grown chilly and he has nary an extra ounce of fat or fur. My other dog is...zaftig, I think the word is. And furry. But not Ray - he's 2 pounds of short-haired joie de vivre in need of an extra layer. When he barks, his whole body thrusts forward with the effort. Right now he's unsure of every sound - is it a threat? An intruder? Noooo...that would be a door closing, Ray.

Ray has no problem asserting his boundaries - that's HIS tiny stuffed turtle toy, thank you very much. A guy's gotta stand up for what's his. Even to another dog who weighs 13 pounds more. Thank you, thank you, Ray'll be back every Thursday night through February and then Wednesdays at the Laugh Factory. That is, if Ray doesn't suddenly collapse into a comatose nap which he does just about once an hour, from the sheer exhaustion of being a two-pound canine with no chickens to terrify or skunks to have unfortunate run-ins with. It's a tough life.

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