Hello, I hope y’all are having a fabulous muther-tuckin’ day.
As I sit here writing this, it is raining. I love the rain, but as a dog owner, the rain can create drama in our house. Two of my boys have no problem what so ever with the rain. They will run out to splash and play with no regard to the mud and water they will inevitably track back inside. Then we also have two pups that will run to the door, see it is raining and halt like it is fire, turn tail and run to the bed to get under the covers. They will go out when they absolutely cannot hold it any longer, but they do it with the most pitiful look on their faces. Then there is Lucy. This bitch treats the rain like a brick wall, or like Gandalf has slammed down his magical staff and told her, “You shall not pass!” She is physically unable to walk on her own into our wet yard but then has no problem getting wet if we put on her leash and take her across the street. She will walk in other people’s wet yards but absolutely will not step in her own if it’s damp. She’s … special.
Lucy is a Chow, and I like to say she is a rescue, but the truth is we bought her from a guy selling dogs in Canton at First Monday Trade Days. I don’t advocate buying a dog from there since I have heard a lot of them come from puppy mills, but Lucy was a special case.
My husband Jamie and I were in Canton doing the gayest things we could think of besides sucking a dick: we went antiquing.
We were walking around enjoying a beautiful day when we walked past the animal area. They sell every breed of dog, cat, bird and farm animal you can think of. Jamie and I had only been together a few years at this time. He had a Chow named Baby and I had two Pomeranians, so we had a full house.
Then Jamie saw her: this beautiful Chow pup that looked petrified. She was in a pen with other happy-go-lucky pups, but she looked scared. She was the only reddish-brown dog among the black ones. Jamie said, “Look at that poor baby — we have to take her home with us.” I said absolutely not — we had just gotten to town and I didn’t want to walk around all day with a puppy. Plus, we already had a full house. I told Jamie, “If she is still here when we are leaving, we can talk about it then.” We walked off, but Jamie would not stop looking back and talking about how miserable she looked and that we needed to help her.
I tried to distract him with a smoked turkey leg and letting him buy a few old model cars for his collection. He is just a big kid.
We spent pretty much the whole day shopping and spending money on stuff we probably didn’t need. As we started to leave, I tried to take him the long way around to the parking lot hoping he had forgotten about that puppy. We had almost made it to the car when he said, “Oh yeah! We need to go check to see if that puppy is still there.” I was like, dammit.
So we walked all of the way back over to the animal area. I was hoping the entire time that the puppy would be gone. No such luck — she was still shivering in the exact same spot. She looked sad and pathetic, but I did not want another dog. Jamie asked the three-toothed asshat that worked there if we could see that reddish brown pup. Mr. Summer Teeth (we called him that because “summer teeth were there, summer teeth were not”) picked her up by the scruff and all but threw her to me. Luckily I caught her. She was quaking, her face in my armpit … and she proceeded to piss all over me.
Even though I was covered in pee and grossed out, I knew I was not giving that poor girl back to Summer Teeth. We paid for her and started to walk back to the car. Not once did she ever look up from my armpit where she had buried her cute little face. She was scarred. I knew she was going to be a lot of work.
Random coincidence: While walking to the car, I found $75. There were three bills blowing like tumbleweeds in the breeze: A fifty, a twenty and a five. It was so weird, we almost named her Lucky. We also almost named her Aslan, because she looked like a lion and we had just watched The Chronicles of Narnia, but before we made it to the car we knew she was a Lucy.
The first week we had her she hardly emerged from her kennel. She would pee if you looked at her funny. She would pee if a train whistle blew in the distance. She would pee when she was happy, when she was scared or even mad. I guess what I am trying to say is, that little dog flooded more than New Orleans.
It took her a while — longer than we thought — but she eventually warmed up to us and the other dogs. It took a lot of time, love and more patience that we thought we were capable of but she eventually became the sweet, goofy, confident chow we knew she could be. Don’t get me wrong — she can still be a crazy bitch on occasion, but we all have our crazy bitch days. I know I do.
So yes, she is a rescue. We rescued her from a life of terror and mistreatment and she rescued us from a life of boredom and normalcy. Now, all these years later, she is part of Casa Nova and I can’t imagine her not being a part of our lives. I love Lucy!
How many of you are excited for the new Ghostbusters movie? I am. I have such high hopes for this movie that I hope it can live up to them. Paul Feig is directing it; he also directed one of my other favorites, Bridesmaids. All four of the main cast members are some of my absolutely favorite women actors. I know a lot of people are skeptical about a remake, I know I am.
Listen Hollywood: Don’t do a freakin’ remake if you can’t make it better. I’m talking to the assholes that did the Poltergeist remake. It had none of the humor or heart that the original had. It wasn’t creepy like the original. It was a total waste of time. Hated it.
The Footloose remake was not dreadful but I don’t remember a single song from it, while the original had one of the greatest soundtracks of all time. The remake’s dance numbers were also forgettable … but who could forget Kevin Bacon’s warehouse dance filled with so much sexy teenage angst? Not me.
Maybe I’m biased because when the originals came out, I was still an impressionable young boy-like person. Ghostbusters, Poltergeist and Footloose made a big impression on me as a kid and when a remake doesn’t capture that same magic, I get majorly disappointed. I guess it is a lot to ask of any movie, but I am giving you a chance, Ghostbusters remake! I hope you make me laugh and entertain me. Maybe you can spark a little magic in a near bitter, jaded but hopeful adult. Fingers crossed.
Remember to always love more, bitch less and be fabulous! XOXO, Cassie Nova.
If you have a question or comment, email it to AskCassieNova@gmail.com.
This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition March 11, 2016.