"Such a beautiful dog...." he kept saying.
"What kind of dog is she?"
"She's a Pit Bull".
His hand retracted quickly.
"I don't know about those kinds of dogs.." he muttered, gathering up his kids.
"You always read about them in the papers".
An older, African American woman sitting nearby looked at me over her sunglasses.
"Staffordshire Terrier" she said with a smile.
"No, I really think she's an American Pit Bull, but I can't tell the difference between American Pits and Staffordshires" I responded.
"There isn't a difference," she said laughing, "You just need to learn to say 'Staffordshire' in a snooty way".
I started laughing. She did too.
As I threw the laundry into the dryer, I noticed these old shorts that I sleep in all of the time. The crotch was torn out. I love my dog. But it disturbs me out that she is so attracted to my underwear, or anything that has come in any sort of contact to my, well, crotch. She's my little girl. It freaks me out that I care for her like a mother, that she is my little miss, I help her into the car, down the stairs, clean her ears, take her to doggie day care and kiss her and tell her to have a great day....yet there is something completely feral inside her that is wildly attracted to my crotch.
THAT is not my sweet baby.
I heard a noise and looked out onto my porch. Sixth graders that were fifth graders a year ago were on it. Three of them. I hugged them. And felt sad. I don't get a lot of student visitors anymore. I would taser the kids I teach now if they came anywhere near the porch.
Lola was pulling. Pulling really hard. It was Thursday, my late day. I don't have to teach until two. We always sleep late. I don't even set my alarm. She could hear the kids on the playground and wanted to go up there. I begged her in English to let me get out of my pajamas and have my coffee and that I would walk her up that way. She complied.
We walked up the hill.
"It's Maestra Hilary!" I heard a kid yell as the entire third grade ran to the fence.
"AND LOLA!!!"
My evil 'Staffordshire' stood up and licked hands and faces through the chain link fence. My babies. A little boy that I had never seen before literally seemed to scale the fence.
"I'm new!" He announced.
"Hi!" I responded as my dog licked his hand. "I used to work here!".
I waved to the teachers across the field, worried that they didn't know what was going on. Teresa ran across the field, Lola's real mother.
Lola sat solemnly, without direction. She stared at her intently. Teresa knelt and let Lola lick her through the fence. Lola knew who she was.
"You are not going to believe this" Teresa stated, eyes half full of tears from seeing her baby.
"We are almost a million dollars in the hole. We have to add two kids to every classroom NOW or people are losing their jobs, like next week. LIKE YOU DID".
She stared at me.
"I can't believe this".
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