Soapbox

Yeah, Yeah, Yeah

August 1st, 1997

So I’ve got this kid…and she loves her dog very much. Well’ he’s a pretty good dog, who has settled down a lot in the past few months, and hasn’t laid a lip on a piece of furniture or a Barbie doll in ages.
Lately he has become the darling of Katie and all her neighborhood girlfriends. She had a slumber party a while ago, and when I poked my head downstairs to check on why it was so quiet, there was Boomer in the middle of the bed, with a little girl snuggled on either side, arms thrown over him. He raised his head when he heard me, and if a dog can look sheepish, he did. I gave him a highly skeptical look and he crawled out of bed and slunk upstairs after me.

This summer the door will suddenly burst open on a previously quite afternoon and several shrill voices will start calling, “Boomer!” “Boomie-dog!” “Here Booms! Here boy!” Boomer goes dashing off to greet his adoring public with great delight. But he has learned that it’s tough to be a pre-teen idol. The girls take him up to Katie’s room with much giggling and squealing and shut the door. I’m not sure what all goes on up there, but usually after 5 or 10 minutes there will be a scratching at the door and Boomer will burst out and tear frantically through the house to find me. He plops down at my feet while the sirens continue to call,
“Boomer! Come Boomer.”
“Come here Boomie!”
“Oh Boomer-boy!”
I look down at him and he looks at me pleadingly. Usually I take pity on him and say, “Girls, I think the dog has had enough for now.

I told him now he knows how it must have felt to be a Beatle.