Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: abuse, gogo, Kyle MacLachlan, love, mookie and sam
I managed to stay in bed until noon, lounging around reading fashion porn (Elle). Lusting after an $1,800 Holly Golightly sort of skirt and Marni tights (only $130!), wanting to escape to a warm grassy field where i could lie on my back and feel the damp coolness below balance out the heat from above, and wondering if my soon-to-be-born Etsy page will launch a new fashion career… Then I get to the back page of the August issue (Ok, I’m a little behind). In an interview with Kyle MacLachlan (Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks, Sex and the City…) he is asked about his dogs. He and his wife have two cute little doggies, Mookie and Sam, who have their own web site, who star in their own show and in short films. (http://www.mookieandsam.com/) They are very cute. The interviewer says to them:
“If you were told today that God was going to strike down either your two dogs or some woman in a movie wardrobe department whom you’d spoken to only a couple of times, which would you choose?
KM: Oh, the woman in wardrobe, absolutely. Oh, yeah. We love those dogs too much.
The interviewer goes on: “Would you sacrifice Mookie and Sam or your unborn child’s toe?
KM: Wow. There’s nine other toes, right? He’ll have nine toes.
How witty. Charming. I totally get the sentiment. He loves his dogs and can’t imagine anything else mattering more. Oh, how nice it would be if I only had to decide between a baby toe and Gogo.
But I think even a baby toe would be too much to sacrifice.
Sometimes you just have to accept that something is not what you want it to be. Living with Gogo was like having an abusive partner (and I’ve had them, so I know). Most of the time, he was sweet and loving. Actually, most of the time, he was sleeping. Do dogs sleep 22 hours a day?
Every morning I woke up to him licking my face. He was overjoyed whenever I walked in the door — I’d kneel down, and he’d put his paws on my shoulder and lick and lick every inch of my face with a manic sort of energy. He looked at me like he adored me. Even if someone else was petting him, he would be looking at me.
But suddenly, without warning, the fangs would show. His growling and intimidation were jarring, like a slap, or like an angry shout. Women who live with physical or verbal abusers are always on edge. You get used to it. You get angry when the abuse happens, because each time it does, you hope that will be the last time, but it never is. That anger gets you thinking about what to do about the abuse, but the anger passes, and the abuser slips back into his saner self.