[If you’re new to Attack of the Lesbian Activist Squirrels (or forgot because I write at the speed of glacier) you might not know about Boo. Boo is a wicked smart Labrador Retriever who was introduced in chapter 3 and had his own chapter (though a brief one) called “Boo Saves the World“. Specifically, Boo is cursed to be vastly smarter than Kandi, his idiotic, woke, vegan, Captain Morgan swilling, kale chip eating, owner. Boo has done his best to surreptitiously train Kandi beyond her mismanagement of… everything. Alas, sometimes you need to cut and run. Boo is desperately seeking a new career… and fast!]
Boo the dog was nervous. This was his one chance and the odds were against him. Kandi was halfway through a bottle of Captain Morgan and watching all the wrong shows. She’d spent the afternoon binge watching “Fish Without A Bicycle” and was now deeply engrossed in “Yoni-Talk”. This, Boo knew, was putting her in a man-hating mood. It would mire the upcoming delicate negotiations.
What, Boo wondered, would have been the cure for Kandi’s anti-male video choices? Far away, in a van parked by the river, Cindy Leachman could have told Boo the truth. She dreamed happily of muscular men fighting Anacondas in South American rivers. The body of Mr. T and the glorious face of John Shneider mixed with Anacondas in a way that would make Freud blush. Marlin Perkins was mixed up in that mess too, a grandfatherly figure; possibly making pancakes for when she woke up and changing the oil in her van. No… Mr. T would change the oil. And the oil would get all over…
This sent her on a different and equally satisfying path. Tomorrow she would buy a shitload of insurance!
Sadly, Boo had no idea of these secrets of the feminine mind. He paced worriedly by the door. His odds were slim.
Boo had been negotiating on Craigslist with a man who wanted to buy a talking dog. Boo, sensibly, had learned to talk; or at least make something close to vocalizations. Having elected to become a value added product, this was his only hope that it would pay off. He had to escape the orbit of his clueless imbecilic master within the next 24 hours! Everything was riding on today’s encounter!
Unfortunately, the kind of person who’d shop for a talking dog was hardly the best person on which to base any transaction. Further, he’d lied about his pedigree, claiming to be a Great Dane instead of the Labrador Retriever he was. Even worse, Kandi had no idea a man was about to show up and try to buy her dog.
Boo was doomed.
The doorbell rang. Kandi, who was tipsy and also dumb at the molecular level, shambled to the door like someone who’d just discovered walking. She opened it to find a tall handsome man dressed in a perfect “Fred” uniform.
Gleaming white shirt, blue collar, orange ascot, blue jeans, and tan leather loafers; he flashed a grin of perfect white teeth. Kandi froze while pre-programmed bullshit tunneled into her cerebrum. Yum! She had no idea where she got the vibe but some part of her subconscious wanted very much to “solve mysteries” with this handsome man!
Fred knew exactly what was going on in Kandi’s empty head. He let it play out for a precisely calibrated amount of time before launching into conversation. Fred knew how to wield bullshit like a wizard.
He spoke easily and casually; sticking with short sentences and flashing a big friendly smile. Soon he was lounging on her couch while Kandi flitted about moving clutter and trying to remember her own name. Fred just grinned… which made Kandi forget all about the Yoni channel. Boo watched, spellbound. So this was a manly man? A new experience in Kandi’s palace of estrogen. Amazing!
Fred smiled at Boo while talking to Kandi. “So this is the dog? It doesn’t look like a Great Dane.”
“Um…” Kandi muttered. She had no idea what he was talking about. It was Boo that had posted the Craigslist ad. She had no idea that Boo was smarter than her. She had no idea Boo had acquired a handicap accessible keyboard and was using it to balance her checkbook. She had no idea her dog was halfway through several online degrees under assumed names. She had no idea it was Thursday.
Fred pondered the two beings. Having seen Velma’s galactic intellect, he was aware of things most people miss. Soon he figured it out. The dog was paying attention to their conversation and seemed more self-aware than the rum infused bimbo on the couch. The dog had posted the ad. Clever dog!
“So your dog isn’t for sale?” He pouted, with a carefully rehearsed shake of the head that could get almost any girl to do almost anything.
“No?” Kandi stammered as she fought back against the bullshit. “No! I love my dog!”
Boo nuzzled Fred, trying to buy his way out of Kandi’s house. Boo might not have known Fred’s methods but Labrador Retrievers have their own skills. He gave Fred a big heartfelt dose of puppy dog eyes and Fred’s heart melted. Fred liked dogs.
Unfortunately, this dog wasn’t a good fit. He was looking for a Great Dane, in accordance with the accepted cannon of Hanna-Barbera. It wouldn’t do to subvert bullshit.
“Well then,” Fred shrugged, “if he’s not for sale and he’s not a Great Dane, then I’ll have to look elsewhere.” He flashed a ten thousand watt smile and Kandi was tempted to sell him anything and everything she had, but Fred himself was shutting down the idea. Also, to sell your dog to a stranger would look mean on social media. Maintaining a good image (without the slightest concern for underlying behavior) was a strong bullshit instruction that ran in the background of every empty headed college girl like Kandi. She didn’t give a shit about the dog but would be mortified if her social feed looked like she’d abandoned it.
Fred left Kandi stammering in the living room. Meanwhile, Boo slipped toward the rear of the house and, after a moment to get his courage up, bravely crashed straight through the screen door. Kandi forgot all about Fred and ran to investigate. Meanwhile, Boo tore around the house’s small back yard, vaulted a fence, and came to Fred at a full run. Fred, who had one foot in his van, reached down to pet the desperate animal. To his surprise, Boo deposited an envelope in his hand. It was crumpled, as if a dog had stolen and hid it.
Fred opened the sealed document. “Left Coast Veterinary is sending you this letter to remind you that your dog BOO is scheduled for NEUTER at…” Fred checked his watch. The date was tomorrow. Boo looked at him with devastatingly huge puppy eyes and mustered in his best human voice (which admittedly wasn’t great); “Relp me Red”.
“Did you just say ‘Help me Fred’?”
“Yeahyeahyeahyeah…” Boo nodded furiously.
Fred stepped out of the van and squatted by Boo.
“Rut ruts off!” Boo whined.
“Cut nuts off… yes, that’s what ‘neuter’ means.” Fred agreed. Astounding! This time the dog really could talk!
Just then Kandi trundled up, desperately out of breath and hobbled slightly from having run barefoot around the house.
“Boo! There you are!” She shouted, ignoring Fred.
Boo, miserable, sunk to the grass.
“Bad dog!” Kandi continued.
For Boo this was the greatest of all possible insults. He was a failure, a disaster, the worst sort of deviant. A. Bad. Dog!
And tomorrow they were going to cut his nuts off! He collapsed in a miserable heap at Fred’s feet.
“Now let’s just cut the dog some slack…” Fred soothed.
At the word “cut” Boo began to howl piteously.
“I don’t know what’s got into him.” Kandi apologized. She grabbed Boo’s collar and dragged him away. Fred looked into the dog’s eyes as they receded into the distance. Man and dog, as often happens, had made a connection
Neutered. There’s no going back from that! He’d specifically been asked for help by a male creature in danger of the ultimate indignity. Fred was no fool. He had an inkling of the greater unity of all creation. Boo’s request was important. The universal code of all males was clear. Action was required. He could hear the dog’s inarticulate voice in his head; “Rut ruts off!”
He sighed. Kandi was unappealing but Fred’s bar wasn’t set particularly high. The universe had sent that poor dog a savior in unexpected form. Fred was a whore who derived his powers based on a 50 year old, low budget, cartoon. His powers were uniquely suited to resolving the dilemma. Who was he to put on airs when the universe had transmitted a direct request for help?
He climbed into his van and rummaged around in his “supplies”. He had several dozen carefully pressed shirts and an endless supply of ascots but also basics like bottles of aftershave and certain liquors. He’d noticed the six foot Captain Morgan poster in Kandi’s living room. Some people are hard to figure out. Others decorate their house with a huge pretend pirate holding a bottle of rum. Fred unearthed a bottle of Captain Morgan, straightened his ascot, and marched purposefully back to Kandi’s door.
“Hello,” Flash giant smile. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.” Stretch left leg just right to show off package. “So I wanted to offer this token of my sincere apology.” Hand over coveted plastic bottle of cheap spiced rum.
Kandi blinked. Her conscious mind had almost forgotten about Fred in her anger at Boo, but the subconscious was pleased with the fact that a real life Fred had showed up at her door; not once but twice. Some of her favorite memories involved watching that show and bullshit was hard at work behind the scenes.
“I would be delighted if I could take you out for dinner, in” dramatic sweep of the drapes to reveal it “the Mystery Machine.”
Kandi gasped. Fred wondered how she could have missed it while dragging her dog practically in front of its bumper. IQ of a guppy in this one!
The reveal had done well. What the ascot couldn’t manage, the Mystery Machine could.
“But, I need time to get ready. I need a shower.” Kandi stammered.
Another flash of the ten thousand watt smile, “Perhaps I can help with that too?”
“How can you help with a sho…” Kandi froze halfway through the statement, suddenly aware of possibilities that were never featured on Yoni-Talk.
While she processed this new and very appealing idea, Fred turned to Boo and winked. Once again, Fred had saved the day!
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