The Bells asked me to come over again that Friday. I stayed almost all day, and made some more money. But this time I was smart and kept them busy in the pool and outside playing in the yard. After lunch, they were so exhausted they took a nice long nap. And so did I.

            After the nap, I fixed them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and sat them in front of the TV until their dad got home. Like I didn’t encounter vomit or poop, I considered it to be an easy day.

            It was the weekend so I slept in on Saturday morning, talked to Sam, my BGF (best girl friend) on the phone, and did my chores around the house. After that, I decided to take my crazy dog for a walk. My mother just did laundry so I reached in my closet and pick out one of my most comfortable t-shirts … a brown shirt with monkeys on it. No, not a monkey, but many moneys in a row, all around the shirt. Because the shirt is so faded, many people think that the monkeys are actually dogs, ducks, cats, cows, aliens or little children.  They are monkeys and the shirt is soft and comfortable, end-of-story.

So, I threw on my monkey shirt, a pair of comfortable jeans, my Converse’s sneakers, took my Ipod, earphones and dog and went for a long walk. I take these walks with Prissy because I usually become lazier in the summer months, so I needed to stretch my legs and get my heart beating. 

            A few blocks away from my house, I noticed a big moving van, so I went towards the truck to see if we had new neighbors. It wasn't a local tag on the truck, the tag said California. Then, all of the sudden I notice 3 huge animals galloping towards me! I could almost feel the ground shaking! Prissy went into a frenzy!

      “Aaarrrraaaaa, growl, aaarrrrrraaa, snort, aaaaarrrraaaa, growl, aaarrrraaaaa!”

      "Prissy, calm down girl!" I shouted. Then I noticed the massive animals were actually dogs... big dogs! They were running over to us with their ears flapping in the air, tongues hanging out, tails wagging. Then, they saw Prissy and stopped, dead on their tracks, making whining sounds. Not only did Prissy hate other humans, but she also hated other animals.  

            I finally had to pick Prissy up and hide her under my t-shirt, right on time too.

            "Salutations!"  I heard a voice coming out from the back yard.  

            "What?!" I asked

            "Salutation, silly. You know, greetings, salute, welcome… sal-u-ta-tion.”

            "Oh yeah, hi,” I muttered. Prissy was still inside my t-shirt, wiggling and waggling.

Jersey is truly a melting pot. In the 1600's, people escaped England looking for religious freedom and a right to live as will. In the 1800's, immigrants from different parts of Europe came to Elise Island, Miss Liberty welcoming them with open arms, looking for a new world. In the 1960's we had a rash of Cubans, seeking refuge from Communism. And now, we have California-its, escaping soaring mortgages, cost of living and beaches with high waves. They are truly a completely different breed of humans on their own. 

            "My name is Sandy. Sandy Olsen," she said with a Valley Girls accent. “S-A-N-D-Y…Sandy.”

            Wow she could spell. Sandy was everything a guy wanted in a girlfriend, and nothing a girl wanted around her boyfriend. She was tall, blond, blue eyed, with a tan to die for and of course a great figure. Sandy was one year older than me but wouldn’t be going to the same school, of course. I go to public school…she would be going to a private school.  

"What's yours name?"

"Nina.”

"N-I-N…”

"I know how to spell my name, thank you,” I told her stopping her from completely spelling my name. What I really wanted to say was, “I know how to spell my name since I was in kindergarten…maybe because I went to Public School!”

"Oooie.” Was the only thing she could think of saying.

“Prissy, stop it!” Prissy was creating havoc inside my t-shirt. She was scratching the inside of my arm and my stomach. All this while, her 3 dogs just sat down on the pavement right behind her as cool and obedient as can be. "Are you new to the neighborhood?" I said  trying to be polite now.

"Ya hum. We just came in on a big old jet plane, a few hours ago," Sandy said. "Sorry about the salutation remark, I was watching Charlotte's Web on the plane. I'll never be able to get the salutations out of my mind ... hehehehe!" Great.

"Oh, and these are my 3 preciouses, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. They are all award winning show dogs. Aren't they the most-es.”

Yeah, to say the least-es. The three dogs were all prize winning Great Danes. Athos was chocolate, Porthos was blond and Aramis was a shiny black with some white spotting.  They just sat there as still as can be, while Prissy was still tearing up my t-shirt. "Wow, Sandy, they sure are beautiful. Whose idea was it to name them after the 3 Musketeers?”

“I’m not suuurre,” she said while twirling a string of blond hair between her fingers. “I think it’s just like my dad really loves the candy bar.”

 Right. “And, who shows them? I mean, is it like a family thing?"

"Well, we have a trainer that trains them, a full time walker that walks them, a groomer that grooms them, then we have professional showers that shows them . . . but yeah you can say it's a family thing, because when they are in a show the whole family shows up . . . hehehehe.”

Riiiight. Oouuch! Prissy, that’s smarts. "Do you have any sisters or brothers?" I asked trying to contain Prissy inside my shirt.

"Ya hum,” Sandy said. “Sis is Betty, and bro is Arty. The Artsters stayed in Cali finishing school at UCLA. And sister is two years old then me. She's going to Rutgers. She wants to be a L-A-W-Y-E-R.” Sandy said it kind of whispering like a secret.

"I'm assuming that spells, lawyer," I said in a sarcastic voice. Hey, it's Jersey, she better get used to it. 

"Yaaaay, you got it right!" she squeaked. “Hehehehe.”

Oh, brother, I wanted a new friend, but wow. 

"What do you have in there-ses?" Sandy asked pointing at my t-shirt.

"Oh, nothing, well, no, not nothing, but, you see . . . it's my dog.”

"Ohpers. Well, letsa taka look-a-see.”

And with that, I let Prissy's head stick out, and before I knew it . . . Prissy was in a rage! She flew out of my shirt and jumped from my arms straight down to attack the Great Danes. Athos and Porthos started running around us, while Aramis was chasing Prissy, or Prissy was chasing Aramis. Prissy's leash suddenly got tangled around Sandy's legs and she went down hard! I couldn't help but chuckle.

 So here I was, 1 small dog chasing 3 large beasts running around us. The Danes were so strong, every time I would try to pick up Prissy one of them would knock me down.

"Prissy, down girl down . . .  PRISSY, STOP, HALT, RETREAT!" I shouted. Nothing worked. Sandy was sitting in the sidewalk crying.  

Then all of the sudden, the Danes couldn't take it anymore and took off running down the street, with Prissy chasing them. As she ran, her hind legs would go sideways and every once in a while she would lift a rear leg and run on just 3 legs. It was sad, but funny as heck to watch! She was growling and barking at the same time, “Baaaaaaaaak, baaaaaaaaaak, growl, bak.”  

So, let’s assess the situation . . . 1 - 7 lb. Rat Terrier chasing 3 - 100 lb. Danes down the street. If it wasn't happening to me at the moment it would be funny. Without thinking about it too much, Sandy stood up and we started running down the street after the dogs.

"Athos, Porthos, Aramis!" she shouted.  

"Prissy, no. bad girl, bad girl!" I shouted.  

"At, Port, Army. . . Haulters!"

We were coming around the block almost in front of her house, when a strong authoritative voice said, "STAY!!!" The 4 dogs stop in their tracks and started just wonder around in front of him and whining. “SIT!” With this command, the 3 Danes finally sat. Even Prissy stayed still. Heck, he almost got me staying and sitting. It was Sandy's father. He obviously knew how to control these animals.  

"I thought I told you to take the three dogs in the back, and put them in their cage!" he shouted to Sandy.

"I'm sorry daddy, but I was . . . yes sir, you did tell me.”

     "And why are you still not doing it!"

     "Yes, daddy. . . see you later Neener," she said as she grabbed the 3 dogs and ran to the backyard. 

"Hi,” I said out of breath, “you must be Sandy's father. My name is. . .”

"Here's your dog,” he said as grabbed Prissy by her leash. “Hold on to your animal." And he walked away.

Wow, no wonder I never really wanted to go visit California . . . the people are strange.

****   ****   ****

When I arrived home, mom was in the kitchen cooking while Dad, Ian and Johnny, were sitting around the kitchen counter shooting the breeze. Dad and Ian had just come back from a fencing competition, but Ian didn't compete. He just wanted to see what his new competition for next incoming season looked like. My dad was sampling my mom's cooking, making choking faces and grabbing his throat. There's an ongoing joke about my mom's cooking. The joke is. . . she doesn't' cook all that well. But we manage.                                                                                                                                                    

It's the weekends, and this is what we do - eat, play video games, watch TV, relax, and have Mimosas on Sunday (at least the grownups do, while Ian and I watch them have Mimosas). I told all of them the story of Prissy and Sandy and the 3 Danes. Ian and Johnny were in stitches laughing, my dad was in disbelief and my mom was in horror.  

"You should have seen ‘The Dog,”’ I said. “For her age she was amazing, running after those 3 beasts!” They all looked at me, like I was missing the point. “Hey, don't judge me, I did what I could.”

"Oh, yeah sure, it sounds that you were trying real hard,” Ian said sarcastically.

"Hey, it could have been worse,” I said, “at least they had some sense and stayed on the side walk. A car could have hit them!”

"Oh yeah great,” my dad said, “and I would have had Mr. California knocking on my front door giving me the vet bill for his prize winning mutts!" 

"No, worse than that,” mom kept on the conversation, "Pricilla could have been hit by a car and killed!" 

“That’s not worse than a bill from the vet for 3 Great Danes!” my dad said to my mom.

“Rick!”

“What? I’m just saying.”

            Prissy was sitting in the middle of the kitchen licking the floor. . . I don't know why she does that. Everyone just looked at her, in a moment of silence, like if something really did happened to her.

"What are we going to do when Prissy goes to the ankle biting section of doggy heaven?" Ian asked.  

"I don't know. I haven't thought about it very much,” I said.  

"Maybe you can taxidermy her,” Ian said.

"What! No that's morbid. I'm not gonna have a dead dog on top of the fireplace mantel, like she was a piece of furniture or a decoration or something,” I said very firmly.

"What about you place her head on a platter and hang it from the wall, like the hunters do?” Johnny said chuckling.

"Will you be serious,” I said.

"What, I am serious.”

"No, actually, I've heard of a service that will cremate the animal, put it in an urn and then they'll take a little of the ashes and put it in a locket. You know, one that looks like a bone or a heart, or maybe the shape of the dog’s breed. So this way you can carry your friend with you around your neck forever and ever," I said with a kind of somber tone. 

"Oh, Nina that's so sweet," mom said.

"Oh, and that's not morbid?" Ian asked. 

"Right,” my dad said with a smirk, “and what's the name of this company . . . ‘Ashes ‘r’ Us!’”

"Or, or . . . ‘Dead Dog Jewelry, Inc.,’" Ian said with a smile.

"No, no . . . ‘Dogs in a locket, not in my pocket,’" Johnny said with a rap tone to it. 

"I got it! I got it!” Ian said. “’The Ashes After’ . . . or, or. . . ‘A Dog Day Afterlife.’”  Hahahaha!

           I gave them all the stare of death.

           "Stop it, all of you!" my mom said. "Can't you see this is a very delicate subject for Nina? You need to be more sensitive!” The men all together stopped laughing.  And I do use the term men very loosely.   

"Do you know where you would want to spread the ashes, Nina?" mom asked.     

 "I don't know. I would have to think about that too,” I said.

 "Make it forever memorable and peaceful,” Ian continued. “The last place traveled on earth, is to be the first place her ashes would find rest, peace and comfort, forever and ever," Ian said in a Shakespearean type voice. Johnny had to chime in, making believe he was playing a violin.  

"Oh there's truly no hope for the two of you,” I said. “Come on Dog, let's take a nap.”

I retreated to my room for a while, listening to my tunes, thinking what I'm going to do with the money I’m make from babysitting. Then after a while, we had dinner. Of course, Johnny stayed for dinner. My dad always made a big deal about Johnny being over our house eating his food, drinking his soda, using his water and wasting his electricity, but I know deep down inside, dad really likes Johnny. . .deep, deep, deep down.

After dinner, the boys (and man) retreated to Ian's room to play video games, while I help mom with the dishes. Then after that I joined them. There they were, all 3 of them, with their mouths wide open concentrating on a racing game. They didn't even notice when I walked in the room. I made myself comfortable on the floor, grabbed a controller with Prissy sitting on my lap and waited for their game to be over to start playing a new game. Hey, it's the weekend, it's what we do. So we started a new game. Oh, and by the way, by the end of the night. . . I smoked  them all!