The "Hotel Melanoma" moniker is a metaphor for living with my particular brand of cancer. Except for those lucky few of us deemed "cured", all we cancer survivors are guests of one of the many, many branded hotels in the "Hotel Carcinoma" chain. We can check out any time we like, but we can never leave. Meanwhile, let's be livin' it up; and please support cancer education, prevention, and treatment research.

Tutu Brothers

Monday, October 14, 2013

The Midnight Rambler

A big shot of joy came this past weekend to my little corner of The Hotel Melanoma, in the fuzzball form of an eight-week old golden retriever pup named Palmer. I’ll be losing some sleep for a while, because this little guy needs to be taken outside in the middle of the cold, dark night; and then he wants to PLAY. It’s a hoot.

My old golden Jordan, who passed away in August, was the best therapist and personal trainer I could have asked for during some pretty tough and dark weeks and months of treatment. There’s just no better anti-depressant than a good dog, who will hang out and snuggle with you when you can barely move and then get you out of the recliner for a walk as soon as you show signs of life. I’m hoping Palmer won’t ever have to play a similar role, but who here knows what lies in their medical future. Maybe I’ll have Palmer trained as a therapy dog who can comfort others in need of the unconditional love that our canine pals bring to our lives. Could there be a better ‘legacy’ for Jordan?

For Palmer, the new kid in town, The Hotel Melanoma rendition of “Midnight Rambler” from the Rolling Stones…

Did you hear about the midnight rambler
Little buddy got to go?
Did you hear about the midnight rambler
The one that jumped the kitchen door?

He don't give a hoot of warning
Wrapped up in a golden cloak
He don't go in the light of the morning
He hits the time the cockerel crows

Talkin' 'bout the midnight rambler
The son you never seen before, yeah
Talkin' 'bout the midnight rambler
Did you see him jump the garden wall?

Playin’ in the night so madly
Listen and you'll hear him roam, yeah, well
Talkin' 'bout the midnight rambler
Little buddy got to go, dance

Did you hear about the midnight rambler
Well, honey, it's gold rock and roll show
Well, I'm talkin' about the midnight rambler, yeah
The son you never seen before

Don't you do that
Don't you do that
Don't you do that

Well you heard about the show dogs
He’s not one of those
Well, talkin' 'bout the midnight
The one that blows the bedroom door

He’s called a hit-n-run player, no anger…
Oh must a knife-sharpened puppy grow…
Or just a shoot-me-dead, ‘larm-bell jangler
Little buddy got to go

So if you ever meet the midnight rambler
Running down your bedroom hall
Well, he's pouncing like a proud black panther
Well, you can say I, I told you so

Well, don't you listen for the midnight rambler?
Oh, you all, play it easy as you go
He’s gonna smash down all your plate glass windows
Put a paw, put a paw through your steel-plated door

Did you hear about the midnight rambler?
He'll leave his pawprints up and down your hall
And did you hear about the midnight rambler?
And did you see him make his midnight call?

And if you ever catch the midnight rambler
He’ll steal your slippers from under your nose
I'll go easy with my old dang anger
He’ll lick the life right out your nose, baby, and he squirms

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