Wise Guys

“You know, we always called each other goodfellas. Like you said to, uh, somebody, ‘You're gonna like this guy. He's all right. He's a good fella. He's one of us.’ You understand? We were goodfellas. Wiseguys.”

- Henry Hill

Goodfellas

            Kathleen, Janice and I met for a bon voyage dinner for Liz, who was scheduled to move to Atlanta in three days. Liz planned to duct tape her furniture against the walls of some kind of  “moving pod” and drive down there in her Jetta. Her two cats and one dog were going to fill the back seat.  As if that wasn’t enough, she planned to videotape the entire journey.

            Liz has one of those wise guy personalities, funny as heck, and she doesn’t miss a trick. So, during dinner, talked turned to my blog. I saw a twinkle in her eye, and knew she was going to stick it to me about some crazy thing I wrote.

            “So, you keep Vito on a leash while he’s in the lake,” declared Liz, in reference to my previous entry “Mush?” It’s a photo where Vito looks like he’s a sled dog, only he’s racing through the water tethered with a red leash to our dock.

            Kathleen and Janice looked at me for an answer. I realized Liz just said what they were thinking: “Hey, Annemarie, cut the cord.”

            “But I’m afraid,” I said. “It’s because of what happened with Misha, two dogs ago.”

            When we were newlyweds, Brian surprised me with Misha, a pretty black and brown German Shepherd mix. She was sweet and stubborn.

            One day we let her loose in the lake at our cottage. Immediately, she doggie paddled toward the center.

            “Misha,” I said calmly. “Come back here.” She steamed ahead away from shore. Her long body reminded me of a submarine that skimmed the ocean.

            “Misha, get back here,” my voice became tense. She ignored me and kept swimming to the middle of the lake.

            Three-year-old twins Beth and Nick began to scream in their high-pitched voices, “Misha, come back!” She swam faster. Her head started to look smaller. She was really going full throttle.

            “Misha!” Brian bellowed, “Get back here!”

            At this point, she began to turn, and we thought she had finally come to her senses and was ready to swim back to us. But she kept circling – completely back to her starting point, then forward again, toward the middle of the lake.

            Spewing a litany of swear words, Brian ran up to the cottage to get the keys to the pontoon boat.

            In the meantime, I watched her paddle farther away in complete disbelief at her disobedience. “Snot.” I said under my breath, but little people have big ears. Beth shook her head like a little old lady, and repeated, “Snot.” Nick shouted at the near-disappearing Misha, “Snot!”

            Boat key in hand, Brian ran to the lake and jumped on the pontoon boat, started the motor, and backed it up. I stood in the water, praying, because I saw her head begin to bob up and down.

            Brian turned the boat toward the center of the lake and zoomed toward Misha. He stopped nearly in the middle. He bent down, and I lost sight of him. Now I worried that he was struggling in his attempt to save Misha. I felt very upset, but I didn’t want to scare the kids, who themselves were getting on my last nerve because they continued to chant the word “snot” like it was their new mantra.

            After what felt like an eternity, I saw Brian haul this huge, brown blob into the boat. He had Misha. The twins and I cheered.

            “I got there just in time,” yelled Brian as he pulled up in the boat. “She never would have made it to shore.”

            First I wanted to kiss Misha, and then I wanted to throttle her, but before I could do either, she shook herself and got me sopping wet. Then, with her nose in the air, she turned toward the cottage and trotted up there, where she slept straight until the next day.

            “And that’s how Misha ruined it for the rest of our dogs,” I said. “After that, they all get the leash.”

            Liz, in particular, loved this story, and why wouldn’t she? She and Misha have a few things in common -- they share an adventurous spirit, and they’re both a couple of wise guys.

            There’s also a difference. Liz is going to make it to shore just fine, all on her own.