#reckoni

“Fine.  I’m trying to offer some help.  Maybe take her to the shelter downtown if you can’t.” “I know.  I’m going to take her to my sister’s house.” “Why?” “Bye, Sal. “Fine.  OK.” I’m not taking “Winchuski” to my sister’s.  She lives in Jacksonville. It’s just easier to say because Sal’s never met my sister so she can be anyone I need her to be at any time.  Last Superbowl Sunday, my sister came in town with her two little kids.  I watched the Superbowl, stoned, by myself.  Win.  Sal dropped a couple Boston cream pies off. Win. I should actually call my sister.  6:08. East coast is 8:08…  Nah.  Where’s Jo?  Is my phone dead?  “Winchuski” is peeing.  Again.  She’s peed seven times since I started looking for her home.  Again.  On Dr. Yamamoto’s Rosemary bush.  Eight.  Egghh.  I have a stray dog with a urinary tract infection.  Yamamoto- “Luke.” “Hi.” “This is your new dog.” “No.  The dog walked into my yard while I was playing.” “Ah huh.  What’s the name?” “Her name is “Winchuski”.” “Why?” “Not sure.” “It’s a surprise for Jo?” “No.” “Jo doesn’t like a dog?” “She does.  It’s just that the dog showed up through the gate- “Maybe keep the gate closed.” “Yes.” “He hungry?” Dr. Yamamoto heads into his house to get some homemade beef jerky, I’m guessing.   He’s yelling from the house.  I’m yelling from outside the house. “The dog?!” “Yes.  Winchester.” “Winchuski.” “Are you sure that’s the name?” “It’s right on the tag.” “Winchuski?”   “Winchuski?!!!!”  “Winchuski!!!!!!!!!!!”