Lamont and a Day in his Washington, D.C.
The Lamont Diaries continued
By Nate Thayer
Lamont and a day in his Washington, D.C.
The Great Guru Lamont took me on a long outing to survey is domain and his people from which we just returned. As usual, there were pleasant surprises awaiting.
It seems anything that makes a noise, movement, or has a circulatory system merits the singular laser focus of Lamont, who, like all the great politicians, bestows his undivided attention making one think they are the only thing that exists on the planet for the briefest of moments, leaving one breathless and swooning before moving on to the next voter.
After leaving the gates of our estate, Lamont took his obligatory long pee. For which he was rewarded with obsequious congratulations and a cookie.
On the way to the park, Lamont and I took a shortcut through the alley.
First, he focused on the cockroaches which he has recently discovered emerge in the urban summer heat and make for wonderful light entertainment rooting out from the concrete crevices and batting around.
Then he spotted a furtive fellow hunched in the shadows of the alley. Lamont tugged and wiggled, insisting we go over and give the man a proper hello.
The man seemed hesitant. As we got closer, I spotted him awkwardly juggling a hypodermic needle in one hand and an elastic, thin Bunji cord in the other.
But Lamont ignored that he was a bit preoccupied, and whined and wagged his tail stretching his snout out in a decidedly non judgmental gesture of bestowing his stamp of affection and approval until he had the man’s attention and heart.
The man smiled and turned to Lamont: “Aaaww, go on with your bad self!” he said sweetly.
Satisfied he had evoked a grin from the man, Lamont trotted on forward with me on his leash.
At the corner was a man standing looking across the street waiting the arrival of a smiling woman in a flowing sundress heading our way.
Lamont ignored him and focused on the apparition of beauty cascading his way. They met midway across the street and Lamont went to work. He glowed and glistened, smiled and swooned, leapt and demanded smooches.
“Oh you are a cutie patootie!” she cooed as she bent down to take Lamont and pull him against her ample bosom.
By this time the light had turned green and Lamont was holding up traffic. But no horns honked, all eyes on Lamont. Some seemed to be taking notes.
It wasn’t clear whether the gentleman waiting on the corner was amused.
We finally reached the park. Lamont’s home base. Although technically dedicated to Abraham Lincoln, the 16th president of the United States who freed the slaves, in practical application it is the domain of which Lamont both reigns and rules under a very benevolent dictatorship.
We passed the child’s playground where hushed murmurs of “Look honey, there’s Lamont!” were heard as the masses stood still while the Great Lamont wiggled by.
Lamont headed towards a circle of teenage girls sitting in a circle on the grass, apparently part of a a summer Bible Study outing from a local Baptist church. They cried out in unison: “That is the cutest puppy ever!” and I unlatched the leash holding Lamont back from bestowing his smooches on His people.
He bounded at full speed over and leapt through the air into the middle of the crying, nearly-in-tears gaggle of teenage angst, as if he were a canine incarnation of Justin Beiber and Mahatma Gandhi.
Lamont vigorously, from inside the circle, smooched and yelped signs of approval at each and every one of the young gals, going round and round the circle, making sure to give extra attention to the ones with acne and extra poundage, and they responded in kind. For ten minutes.
With them all sated in tears of joy, we moved on, to the statue of Abe Lincoln in the middle of the park. It was there that Lamont met Grumpy, a floppy skinned mutt of Basset Hound descent who, after a moment of reluctant pause, was smitten with the young Lamont. And they bounded about roughhousing.
“ He is awfully cute,” smiled Grumpy’s lovely young human.
“He is,” I said, “he seems to have figured out the essential ingredients of happiness.”
Lamont returned with a crab apple and dropped it at her feet.
“Lamont seems to have taken a liking to apples, “ I said. He had brought one home yesterday and then swiped my half eaten one from the bedside table later in the night.
“I make a great sweet potatoe pie,” she said.
“I do love sweet potatoe pie,” I said.
And then we all went back to Grumpy’s place. She wasn’t fibbing. We all enjoyed her homemade sweets, and after some time, Lamont and I headed home.
“See, I told you if you stuck with me I would take care of you!” said Lamont on our way home, rather proud of himself.