Special Delivery

"Marco called me..."

I was shocked. "Marco?! As in your ex, Marco?"

"That's the one. Never thought I'd hear from that asshole again. But I suppose, love works in mysterious ways."  

I was concerned. Marco had broken her heart in the past. I wasn't sure if she should be in communication with him. "Well, what are you going to do? Didn't he move to California?"

Coco was lying on the windowsill, lapping bourbon from a tiny bowl with ice cubes in it. She got up to face me, but was a little wobbly on her feet. "He did move to California. Sunny, beautiful, perfect California. He told me they serve drinks in coconuts out there. There's a bar near his apartment that has frozen booze that comes in all the colors of the rainbow."

"Wow, Coco. That does sound right up your alley...but I can make you colorful boozy drinks right here at home!"

She dipped her head and took a big gulp of bourbon. "Yeaaaah...well. I don't care. I need a man."

"Oh Coco..." I shook my head. "Well, what did Marco say on the phone?"

"He wants me to fly to Cali and visit him."

"Wow...So when's the flight? What airline did he use to book your ticket?"

Coco hiccuped. "Well, he didn't buy me a ticket. He doesn't have the money right now, but if I get myself out there, he said he'd pay for my baby carrots and alcohol. So I'm going."

"I don't get it. You don't have enough money for a plane ticket either, and I am NOT footing the bill. If he wants you to visit him so badly he's gotta come up with the money." I told Coco, finally putting my foot down.

"Oh would you lighten up!? I only weigh 5 pounds. If you wrap me up in this paper and poke holes in a box, you can ship me to the west coast in a few days. Just pack me some snacks and a flask and it'll be smooth sailing."

"Coco. It's not happening."

Coco raised her paws toward the ceiling. "I'M COMING MARCO! WAIT FOR ME!!!"

A Little Pick Me Up

"Do you love me?" 

"Coco, of course I do. You are the light of my life and my best friend. I would do anything for you." I said.

"How much money do you have?" Coco asked.

"Well...times are a little tight right now since the layoff," I said to Coco as I folded a pile of clean laundry. "I'm doing my best. I have some money saved, but I'm trying to be smart about spending." 

"That is very interesting. I am really proud of your level of self control." Coco said slowly and unconvincingly. "I think you and I are a lot alike," she continued. "For example. I've grown much more conservative with my alcohol consumption lately. I'm down to a bottle of booze a day, where normally I would aim higher."

"Well Coco, that is certainly good to hear. I think you have a tendency to let drinking rule your life, and let's be honest, you're 8 1/2 years old. The less booze you drink the longer we will inevitably be together, and that is just wonderful in my opinion."

"Interesting. 'Less booze.' Right. Suuuure. Terrific. So...the money. Would you say you have enough if, for instance, I ever had to go to the doctor?" Coco asked.

"Well of course! Whatever you need girly. I've got you covered...are you not feeling well? Should I call the vet and make an appointment?" 

"Actually, I've already made an appointment. I mean hey, like you said, I'm 8 1/2 years old. I'm not what you would call a 'young bun' anymore. But it's good you have that money set aside for me, because I've been considering some options to appear more youthful."

"What do you mean?" I asked skeptically. 

"What I mean is that I made an appointment to 'freshen up' if you will." Coco said matter-of-factly.

"How so and how much?" I began to sweat as I recalled that Coco has no concept of money nor common decency. "Tell me now, Coco. Or I'm pouring your vodka down the sink."

"Ok ok! I'm getting a small face lift. A minor procedure. You and I both know I can't stop drinking, so I was thinking that if I appear more youthful I will probably live at least 15-20 more years."

I shook my head. "Oh Coco. You are already perfect. Don't need to get a face lift, I love you just the way you are."

As I hugged her and rubbed my nose into her cheek, she said, "Your 401k is cashed. Just let it go. It's over."

Move Over Patrick Duffy

"I really think you and I should consider one more shot at going into business together," Coco said as I flipped through some TV channels. 

"What kind of business?" 

A few years back, Coco tried to convince me that we should start a landscaping company. When we went to speak with a potential investor, Coco told the gentleman that the children in his framed desk photo looked like 'stunt doubles for Leprechaun.' She then proceeded to fertilize his potted plant, and shortly thereafter we were escorted out of the building.

Coco nodded slowly as if she were working out the process in her head. "I was thinking we could buy our own ice cream truck. It should be a very lucrative endeavor if we follow my strategic 'Step-by-Step' plan."

"Oh really, Cokes? Do tell."

Coco cleared her throat. "Step 1: We buy an ice cream truck. Step 2: We play the music. Step 3: We get the money." She looked at me very proudly as if she had just divulged the most ingenious of plans.

My head fell to a tilt. "I don't get it."

"What don't you get?"

I leaned forward and placed the remote on the coffee table. "How do we make money? What about the ice cream? What's the plan?"

"Did you live under a rock in the 90s? Have you not seen Step by Step? It was Suzanne Somers' tour de force--a really inspirational show. The message is damn clear if you listen: 'We'll make it better...the second time around.' That song is about us."

"Coco. What the hell are you talking about?"

"Listen, I don't have time to explain this to you. You're an idiot and you're wasting my valuable drinking time."

Put on Your Party pANTS

I fell asleep on the couch last night, because I was up late working on a project. When I went upstairs this morning to feed Coco, she looked wrecked and so did my room.

"Coco! What happened??? My room is totally destroyed and you look terrible."

"I had a party last night. Quit freaking out. Just a few friends. A few bottles of Jack...NOT a huge deal."

"Ok, well why does it smell like a haunted house in here?" I asked.

"I brought out your old fog machine and fired up the strobe lights you got at that yard sale. The ants loved it."

"Ants?" I started looking around the room frantically.

"Yeah, well. No one showed up to my party except me, so I opened the window and let a few thousand baby ants in the house. I poured out some whiskey on the floor and the ants got HAMMERED!" Coco exploded into laughter. "It...was...awesome!"

Still scrambling to find the thousands of ants that apparently partied in my room last night, I considered the thought that Coco was making it up--or she had just drunkenly imagined it.

"Ok baby. Well listen, I'm glad you had fun last night with your "ant friends," but I'm going to clean up a bit and run some errands. You relax and try to sleep off that hangover." I kissed her head and walked to the door.

"Good thinking," Coco said. "I'll catch some Zs. That's exactly what the ants are doing in your bed."

s

Lie Like an Egyptian

"Come outta your cage girly, I want to show you something!" I yelled to Coco from across the room.

"No. Not a chance. But I will allow you to bring me a cheese plate with those big grapes on it, too. I like those. And I will also allow you to feed them to me...one by one...until I am full."

"Oh come on Cokes," I pleaded. "You won't get up for your own mother?"

"I'm not getting up from this position for anyone, especially my own mother. I'm practicing my destiny's pose."

"Is that a new yoga position, my fluffy darling?" I got up to move closer to her. 

"No moron. My real future, without you. In Egypt, they will call me Cocopatra. My people will erect a gigantic sculpture in my honor among the pointy houses, and I will be lying like this. I saw it myself on the Internet."

"Coco, you are no doubt a queen in my eyes, but what makes you think you are destined for this kind of worship?"

"If you must know, I've been talking to King Tut on Twitter. He said he's shy, but I know the real him. He said he would worship me, and I would be his goddess. Plus, he has over 100,000 followers, so I'm sure he could get them to follow me too."

"What???? Coco...please tell me you're not talking to sexual predators on the Internet."

"He's not a sexual predator, he's my ticket out of this hell hole."

"Coco you're hurting my feelings, and besides we both know you don't know how to type or spell. Why should I believe any of this?"

She smirked, "I kicked the living shit out of Timmy O'Houlihan again and forced him to make me an account and do the typing for me."

"Coco, Timmy O'Houlihan is six years old. And just so you know, Timmy wandered over here this morning and told me everything. I just wanted to see if you would be honest with me. Now I'm going to call his mother to apologize."

She narrowed her eyes, "Don't bother. Timmy is a dead man."

Inked Out

"Hey Ma, get over here. I need you to shave me." 

"Coco, why would you want to be shaved? I think your natural fur looks beautiful."

"I have an appointment for a tattoo removal session tomorrow, and I need to be as bald as a baby chicken for this thing. I'd rather be shaved at home than in the shop."

This was the first time I had ever heard Coco mention tattoos.

"How was I not aware that you had tattoos, and why are now deciding to get them removed?"

"My ex-lover had a tattoo removed after the TV show Jersey Shore gained popularity. I think he was tired of people shouting 'Hey! Pauly D!'" Coco said. "I have a few regrettable ones, and I think it's time to get rid of them."

I reached up to smooth out her puffy cheeks. "Coco, if you really want me to shave you, I will. I just want you to know that I'm not happy about this...what are these tattoos, anyway?

"When I was 3 years old, I got my first tattoo of a green caterpillar crawling up my left paw. A year later I got a turtle eating a bowl of cereal on my right side. On my left side I have a tattoo of a rabbit skull and a portrait of Estelle Getty of the famed, Getty Images on Google."

"Coco, Estelle Getty is a Golden Girl, not the namesake of a photo stockpile. Are you serious!?"

Coco threw me a sassy look. "Shave me and I guess you'll find out."

I felt a bit defeated. "I'm actually considering doing this for you, but I must insist that you sleep on it. I want you to be 100% sure you wanna do this."

She frowned. "I'm positive. Plus, I wanna get all these tattoos removed so I can start a full body piece."

"A full body piece?! Of what?"

"I want to get horizontal lines and full brown shading so I look like a loaf of bread."

I shook my head and left the room.

An Eruption

"Nyah....nyah! Unnnnngh. Unnng. Nyah...          Maaaaaaaahm!"

I heard Coco yelling to me from the open window to my room. I dropped my spade and my gardening gloves onto the lawn and yelled up to her, "I'm coming baby!" 

I ran up the stairs and finally stood before her.

Coco had a look of utter defeat on her face. "I'm pushing...but nothing is coming out. I'm backed up like Bill Gates' hard drive. I'm packed with more logs than Lincoln's cabin."

I took her food dish out of the cage. "So you're constipated, Coco?"

"Did you not hear me? I'm wrecked. I'm completely bloated and cramped to hell."

"Do you want me to get you some prune juice with a splash of vodka?"

Coco looked up at me. "Double up on the vodka and we have a deal. Anything to get this bat outta hell, because I'm sittin' here like Meatloaf."

I reached into the cage and gently rubbed Coco's belly. "My my! You are awfully silly when you can't go poo poo, little girl."

"Don't you dare patronize me...because Mt. Vesuvius will erupt again, and I will aim for the walls."

July 3rd

"I'm outta here, sucker! And don't try to find me," Coco yelled as I walked in the room.

"Ha! Nice flag, Coco. Did you steal that from the 7-Eleven?" I jabbed back.

"Actually I stole it from the neighbor's yard, idiot. But that lady is like...100 years old or something. She'll never notice it's gone." Coco laughed hysterically.

"So, why are you 'outta here' as you so plainly put it?" I leaned in to pet her cheek, I could smell the vodka. 

"It's Independence Day. It's the g-damn 4th of July. And I'm leaving you. It's time I went out on my own, because I've proven that I can be independent." She held her head up high, looking rather majestic.

"Coco, it's July 3rd. And Independence Day is not a time for you to leave home unless you really think you're ready. Are you sure you want to go?"

She nodded. "I'm sure."

I tapped her toe with my finger. "I just replenished the liquor..."

Coco licked my hand. "Get out my sweatpants. We're partying tonight!!!" 

Muy Caliente!

"Do you think a soccer player would ever date me?" Coco asked as we drove to her favorite bar to have a beer and watch the World Cup.

I shook her paw like a hand. "I don't know little princess, maybe. Who did you have in mind?"

She stood up on the seat and stretched tall. "Look at these legs...look at them!!! I'm a babe. I just know I could get anyone from Spain, I'm serious. Have you seen those guys? Complete hunks."

"You know what Coco," I said. "I think if they just met you they would definitely fall in love."

"Yeah well, I've already written love letters to Gerard Pique and Raul Albiol." Coco said with a laugh. "I'm just waiting for them to write me back with a place and time to meet."

"Oh Coco," I sighed. "Easier said than done, I'm sorry to say. By the way, I didn't know you knew how to write. When did you learn that?"

Coco rolled her eyes. "I snapped a few of your ink pens onto the floor, dipped my paws in it and then pushed my paws against a piece of paper. I pulled out a little fur from my butt and put it in the middle. Then I folded the paper and kicked it under your bed." 

I was confused. "Ok?"

"Ok what?" Coco snapped back. "Now...I wait for my men to come to me."

"Ahh, of course Coco, of course." I smiled. "Say, how about I buy us the first round?"

Coco spit on the floor mat. "You are buying all the rounds."