by breakylegg
Sonny is her fourth Great Dane, an enormous faun that could easily be Marmaduke’s stunt double. I am not exactly sure how tall he is, but I am 5’10” and his spine rivals my beltline. Thankfully, these dogs are of a gentle nature and not easily riled, though Sonny takes his breed’s innate kindness to the extreme end of the Dane spectrum. Why he is such an utter wuss escapes me. Certainly his skittishness does not derive from his treatment 'round here, because it’s obvious Mom’s favorite pastime is to lavish her giant with bones and baby talk and hearty leftovers. In fact, it’s kind of become a joke, that sudden schizophrenic shift her voice exhibits when delivering our goodbyes: from the exaggerated, E-note “you-be-good-sweetie-heart-sugar-pie-baby-Mama-will-be-back-soon-and-give-you-bonies-ok?-bye-bye-honey-Mama-loves-you…” cooed in loving delirium as she stands bent, hands locked on his black jowls, their noses close, to the blunt, nearly monosyllabic “’night, breaky,” directed at me as she shuffles past my room heading for the garage.
6S
breakylegg, author of Lightfoot, Julius and "Night of the Bloody Clown," is currently working on "Bloody Night of the Elderly Detective," his second unpublished novel. When not playing second fiddle to an enormous canine or typing in his mother's shady den, he prefers to float in her pool eating Totino’s 3-cheese Party Pizza.