The Dog Whisperer

I hate my friend Rachel’s car.  It’s a Mercedes Jeep something.   You hop into it like you’re climbing into a stagecoach.  The seats are uncomfortable, you can’t see out the back window and must use a camera to see anything behind you.  Each time I enter it I remind Rachel we’re not traveling through the Sahara just the mean streets and highways of L.A.  But it’s a Mercedes and expensive and cool so you’re suppose to be impressed.  The only good thing about taking this monster anywhere is she isn’t making me climb into her Astin Martin.  Don’t even get me started on that one.  Oh what the rich find to waste their money on.  I’ve never quite understood why Jews buy Mercedes Benzes.  It’s as though they’re saying, “Yeah you almost killed us off but we not only survived but are rich again and now own you schmucks.”

Well my best friend Jim Emery called up and invited me to a house warming.  He and his wife Sheila bought a new home and just moved in.  Sheila is the creator and one of the producers of “The Dog Whisperer,” the hit television show on the National Geographic Channel.  Now they are enjoying the fruits of her labor.  Jim gives me an address in Norwalk.  “Where the hell is Norwalk,” I asked and thought why would anyone move there on purpose.  Now my best friend is living in this hinterland.  I bet he’s not going to be getting many visitors.

Apparently Norwalk is one of those outside civilization cities that surround L.A.  Either you live in Hollywood, West L.A., Santa Monica or if poor the San Fernando Valley.  Anywhere else is nowhere.  Yet the reality is Los Angeles is surrounded by a dozen smaller cities that we know exist only because of the signs on the freeway as we zip down to Orange County or San Diego.  Cities with names like Commerce, City of Industry, Santa Fe Springs and, alas, Norwalk.

Rachel puts the address in the beast’s navigation system.  Using the navigation system we barely find Norwalk and never did find my friend’s house.  I had to use a cell phone and ask for directions.  See what I mean about these strange, invisible cities outside civilization.

Jim was happy to see me because I rarely go to social functions.  Not my cup of tea.  Loner with a capital L.  The party is out back and all of Sheila’s friends and family are present.  I don’t loosen up until actor Bill Rose shows up accompanied by movie and television director and friend Charles Norton.  Now I have real people to talk to.  If show business people are real.  Maybe I have it backwards.  It’s just that show biz people are more interesting, more charming, more witty, more attractive, more more.

Rachel is tired and goes into the living room to rest on the couch.  I hope that’s the reason and not because she caught me dancing oh so slowly with a young nubile thing after I’ve told her a thousand times I don’t dance.  I had to get a few more feels in but eventually went looking for her and found her stretched out on the couch in deep conversation with The Dog Whisperer, Cesar Millan.  Later she told me her husband hired Cesar to help them with their crazed German Shepherd Bonnie.

The best part of the evening was watching Millan interact with his attractive wife.  They’ve been married for years but the look in his eyes and respect and affection for his wife I haven’t seen in any male over the age of seventeen.  It was really nice to see that fame and money hasn’t made him crazy – yet.  I’m glad someone is having a happy ending.

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