After we had known each other for about six months, Self declared a truce, in his campaign as a one dog wrecking crew. He even managed to be cordial, (too a degree)! Now when we’d see each other, instead of a head-butt, he’d greet me with a firm nudge, just to let me know who was “Top Dog.”

Every once in a while, I would spot him down on Sunset Blvd. holding Court! Everybody knew he was Arthur’s dog, and he was treated like Royalty. All the chick’s would ooh and aaa over him, pet him, or give him treat’s, and he just loved all the attention!

Self developed the routine of dropping by my house once or twice a week (at sunrise) with his favorite toy, a motorcycle tire. He would repeatedly bounce that tire against my door. ( His way of summoning me to come out and play.) If I tried to ignore him, and not open my door, the dog would create such a commotion, that I was forced to get dressed, and come outside. I would roll the tire down the hill, and he’d chase it for thirty or forty yards, grab it in his mouth and bring it back. I repeated this over and over until he got tired or bored or both, then he’d grab his tire and disappear.

One afternoon I was sitting outside writing in my journal, when Self appeared, he didn’t have his tire, so I assumed he just came by to visit. He sat behind me looking over my shoulder as I continued to write, every now and then he would bark, or cock his head to the side as though commenting on what I had written. On this day, I was ticked off at Arthur, he had “dissed” me in some way, and I was really pissed off!

Arthur and I would throw-down, at the drop of a hat and over the year’s, we must have had at least a couple dozen fist fights. So in an effort to keep the peace, and avoid another physical confrontation, I decided to share my thoughts on the matter with my journal, rather than him.

I’m letting the expletives fly, Arthur was the recipient of every swear word, and epithet I knew. I was really getting into it, now I was having fun! All of a sudden Self, who was still looking over my shoulder, let’s out a low growl, grabs my journal in his mouth, and takes off running. I chased that dog for at least a couple hundred yards, until I was exhausted, and had to rest. I continued my search for at least an hour, but was unable to find Self, or my journal, and he never again came by with his tire, though he did come by at three am from time to time, and pound on my door.

Just another day in the life!

Johnny Echols