Tag Archives: Karma

If my dog ever had good karma, I’m pretty sure that’s blown to hell now, thanks to Sally Skanktail.  As we’ve already discussed (here), mine is already screwed, based upon my interaction with certain lizard friends. But in addition to the fact that my dog is a closet ho, and loves wearing the Sweet Baby Slutbag wig—or she totally would if she could get her paws on it—I spotted her nemesis, Sally Skanktail, this morning flirting with the Buddha statue. And that can only mean one thing. Bad news for my poor little pooch, Lily.

Sally Skanktail is the girl on the yard with the bad, bad attitude, and the rattiest tail a squirrel can have, and still be called a squirrel… rather than a rat. You do know that’s the only difference between a rat and a squirrel is the fluffy tail, right? Ok, that’s a total lie. But Sally is a bit of a rat. She peruses our yard regularly for eatables, which drives Lily, the terrier troll absolutely nuts. Sally knows that Lily is generally captive behind the glass. So she enjoys taunting her with her daily dance of The Nutcracker, performed on the wall. She’s pure evil in a squirrel-fur tutu.

Sally Skanktail doesn’t always know when Lily’s outside, and Lily occasionally gets a good run at her. But Sally always wins the foot race to the tree, where she looks down on Lily and barks at her, and flips her off with her little squirrel paw. Ok, probably not. But that’s how I imagine it. I wish I had some video for you here. Because the entertainment value of the dog barking at the squirrel, and the squirrel barking back at the dog in the same rhythm and cadence is Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom gold. In fact, I’m pretty sure Sally is plotting to kill Lily. I’ve seen it in her eyes. I’m telling you… she’s evil.

So this morning, when I saw Sally caressing the Buddha’s cheek with her mangy tail, I knew exactly what was going on there. The skanky little suck up—she’s trying to line up Lily’s next life assignment. Poor Lily. If she doesn’t start being nicer to Sally, she’s going to come back as a dungbeetle. But little does Sally know, slutting around with a statue gets you no pull with the Karma people. At least I hope that’s the case. Because my own lizard nemesis spends a hell of a lot of time hanging around the Buddha guy, sitting in his lap, and whispering in his ear. So I suppose if there’s something to this, Lily and I could be feasting on the same dung pile some day. And I’m pretty sure I don’t like dung.

Ok, seriously now. I never intended for there to be countless follow ups on the Lloyd post. Because I just don’t think beating a dead horse (or dead, glue-dipped, glitter-crusted lizard) is necessary. Nor wise. Karma, y’all… right?? I’ll bet some of you have no idea what I’m talking about, so go catch up….

Lloyd and his Tiny T-rex Arms
Lloyd Karma

You’re welcome. Now you know, since you just read “Lloyd Karma,” that the last time I had a chuckle, mocking the peril of one of nature’s children, I received a message from one of Lloyd’s kin. This is some scary shit, people. The universe and I usually try to stay copacetic with one another. Or, at least I do with the universe. I’m pretty sure the universe doesn’t give a flying fart in space about me.

So recent developments tell me that the universe now reads my blog. Which is kind of cool. But a little unnerving. Just yesterday, I wrote about something that made me laugh hysterically when I was twelve. Something that involved two helpless creatures in a predicament. It was pretty twisted. But I had nothing to do with it. And I defy any twelve-year-old to not laugh at that.

Lost again? Jeez… keep up, people. Read yesterday’s post.

You’re welcome. Again. You know, you can subscribe over there on the right, so you can keep up.

ANYHOOOO….. so ya, the universe reads my blog. I know this because right after I posted the piece about Magic Rover, I walked out to grab an iced tea, and there he was. The lizard mafia boss was back. Draped across the chest and shoulder of the Buddha statue like a Miss America sash. And he was giving me the eye. He seemed kind of pissed that I just wrote a piece about finding humor in the dog situation. I’m pretty sure I’m fucked. Bad Karma is mine. I managed to get a pic this time. He was totally flipping me off. It’s hard to see in the photo.

I’m a little worried. I mean, bad shit happens when the universe gets pissed at you. Pissed enough to send the lizard boss to warn you. Right? So, not to be outdone by my Alabama cousin, who is now extending her crafts from glitterated lizards, to stuffed, bedazzled armadillos, dressed in hooker boots, I made a sweetass hat for my lizard pal. I thought a peace offering might help with my ok-ness with the universe. I think it’s pretty rad. Now he looks good chillin’ on my statue out there. I’ve decided from now on his name is Ziggy. He looks like a Ziggy, right? I’m pretty sure the way he whips his little lizard dreads around that he’s cool with his new persona.

The best part is, since Ziggy has gone all rasta, he’s much more mellow. I think he’s been spending more time in my neighbor’s yard… he grows weed. But I’m just glad Ziggy and I are cool. And I think the hat’s pretty sweet. Right?

Hopefully the universe and I are good for now.