My Best Friend is Obsessive-Compulsive

How does one tell their best friend that he needs counseling?  I guess one just needs to come out with it.  So, here it is, Paco, my loyal man’s best friend, you need to find a good doggie psychiatrist. 

Paco has always been known as a toe-licking-panty-sucking-wine-drinking dog. Paco loves toes, panties, and especially wine. When one is around Paco one must keep their shoes on, drawers shut, and wine glasses up high and out of reach.

Toe-licking, panty-sucking, and wine-drinking are not Paco’s only idiocies, unfortunately. Paco is a twirler. Most little dogs twirl but Paco is an obsessive-compulsive twirler. He can’t be walked on a leash because he twirls so much that he will get strangled by his own leash. When we go for a walk he runs circles around my wheelchair.  Caren doesn’t like to take Paco for hikes because she says he “wimps out” and quits walking and has to be carried. Poor guy he quits because he has walked three times farther than anyone else due to his twirling. One day I watched Paco attempt to go out the doggie door, he had to twirl three times and then twirl and touch the doggie door with his nose three times and then jump through the door and if I interrupt him in between the process, he has to start all over. If one opens the door for him to go out or in, he has to twirl three times before entering or exiting. Paco is also obsessed with licking the grout in my house. The entire house is tiled and one can observe Paco methodically following the grout lines and licking the grout throughout the house. This is the only thing he does without twirling. He looks like Pac-Man. He is a Pac-Chicka-Chicka-Wow-Wow!

So now Paco is known as an obsessive-compulsive toe-licking-panty-sucking-wine-drinking-three-times-twirling-Pac-Man-grout-licking dog. He has many more obsessions that are too embarrassing to discuss (like humping), but with all his craziness Paco is still one of my best buddies. I am never lonely because Paco is always there. He doesn’t care about my idiocies. When he comes into the house he always has to find wherever I am to check on me. He licks away my tears. And he is always good for a great laugh. I will keep my shoes on, my panty drawer shut tight and my wine glass set up high while I watch my dear sweet companion lick the grout and run circles around me.

Paco’s Pesrspective

I twirl?

The Flip Side

I notice you didn’t mention Sir Barks Alot’s obsessive barking problem. A guy can’t get a nap with him around.

Andy Don't Whistle and Old Sap Ain't Old

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There is a new trend in Montana which is the distillery. Distilleries can only be open from 10 am to 8 pm and there is a two-drink maximum per visit. In Montana it is easier to get a distillery license than a regular liquor license, so distilleries are popping up all over Montana.

There is a distillery near Caren’s home in Montana and we drive by it ever time we go into town.  This distillery has a sign placed on the road so passersby like Caren and I will read it and want to come in. One week the sign said, “Whistling Andy, Live Music, 5:00 – 8, Friday Night.” The only time I have heard someone whistle while they sang was while watching the Andy Griffith Show, so I was intent on attending and watching Andy Whistle.

Caren and I have a regular Friday ritual: Bible Study, go into Kalispell for lunch and movies and then dinner at El Topo in Bigfork. It is somewhat difficult to cram one more thing into our busy Friday schedule but I was determined to go and Listen to Whistling Andy.

I am really not a big drinker. I mainly only drink in the summertime while in Montana. I am a wuss when it comes to alcohol. The owner and bartender at El Topo, Lindy, is a Montana friend of Caren’s and mine. There are light pourers and heavy pourers when it comes to bartenders. Lindy is a heavy pourer in my book, although, probably any pour is a heavy pour for me. So when Caren and I stopped in the distillery on the way home I had already had a Too Tall Margarita and it was a heavy pour. I have a tendency to say things I shouldn’t when I have had just one drink.

When we entered the distillery there was NO ONE in the place except a bartender and a young guy playing the guitar and singing folk songs and he wasn’t whistling. Behind this young guy was a surfboard with the name Whistling Andy. I was sure that eventually he would start whistling. We ordered drinks because that’s what one does in a distillery and sat to listen to Whistling Andy. As time went by, Andy wasn’t Whistling, so having two drinks under my belt and the fact that there was no one around I asked, “So, when are you going to start whistling?”

“What?” the young guy replied.

Well . . . .you are Whistling Andy and you haven’t whistled once while we’ve been here,” I informed him.

“I’m not Whistling Andy,” he announced to the audience consisting of only Caren, myself and some girl at the bar that continued to make eyes at the young guy.

“But the sign on the road said Live Music, Whistling Andy, five to eight. You have a big surfboard behind your head that says Whistling Andy and you’re not Whistling Andy?” I asked rather rudely.

“Nope, my name is Old Sap,” the young guy who was definitely not old replied.

“Well . . . . . where in the Sam Hill is Whistling Andy? And when is he going to start whistling?” I asked as a look of disgust crossed my face.

“There is no one here that whistles while they sing. The name of the Distillery is Whistling Andy. I am Old Sap and I don’t whistle. I don’t even think that guy whistles,” the young guy replied as he pointed to the bartender.

I looked at Caren and she looked at the bartender and they both looked at me and shrugged. Caren and I proceeded to listen to Old Sap who is not old and his real name is Chris and he sings folk songs that he wrote in a distillery that is named Whistling Andy WHERE NO ONE WHISTLES.

As Caren and I left the place, we saw many bottles of gin and whiskey for sale that said Whistling Andy Distillery and outside on the top of the building there is a HUGE sign that says Whistling Andy Distillery.

If you are ever in Bigfork, Montana, stop by the Whistling Andy Distillery. The bartender makes some mean drinks and there is live music every Friday, Saturday and Sunday during the summer season. But don’t expect anyone to whistle or Old Sap to be old.

Paco’s Perspective

My name is Poquito Paco Bell  and I don’t ring.

The Flip Side

My name is Flip and I don’t flip.