Today I’m going to read from When Life Gives You O.J. When Life Gives You O.J. is the story of Zelly Fried who is about to turn 11 and she has a problem, she really wants a dog. Wants a dog so bad she’ll do anything or so she thinks. Enter her grandfather who goes by the nickname Ace. He has a plan, he thinks he’s found a way for how she can convince her parents that she’s ready for a dog. Unfortunately, well you’ll see.
“ ‘Kid,’ said Ace. ‘Meet your new dog.’
I stood there holding the jug and staring at it. I knew crazy people sometimes heard people in their heads or saw things that other people couldn’t see. Did Ace think there was a dog in the room with us?
‘Um, where?’ I asked. Ace reached out and thumped the orange juice jug with his hand.
‘Right there! You’re holding him!’
‘I
This?’ I held out the jug with both hands to make sure that I understood what he was saying. ‘You think that this is a dog?’
‘No, for crying out loud! What kind of a meshuggener do you think I am?’
Meshuggener is the Yiddish word for a ‘crazy person.’ Ace says it a lot when he reads the New York Times. Also when he watches the news on TV. According to him most politicians are meshuggeners. He also thinks Captain Kirk acts like a meshuggener, especially when he gets himself beamed onto other planets without checking them out first.
‘No, Grandpa, I just
I’m sorry I don’t understand.’
‘Enough with the sorry. Vey iz mir, kid.’
Ace shook his head. Clearly he was disappointed in me. Ace lapses into extra Yiddish when he wants to make a point which is often. He’ll say Oy vey! or Vey iz mir!, which is sort of like an Oy vey! and then some. He pointed to the jug and spoke slowly.
‘This,’ he said, ‘is not a dog. Okay?’Okay I said.
‘It’s not a dog, so what is it he demanded?’
‘Um, it’s an orange juice jug.’
‘Wrong!’ yelled Ace. ‘This is not an orange juice jug. This is your new practice dog. This is what you use to show your parents that you are responsible enough to get a real dog.’
‘Practice dog?’ I asked.
‘Right! Everything you do for a real dog, you do for the practice dog.’
‘Yeah, but Grandpa, you can’t do dog things with an orange juice jug.’
‘It’s not an orange juice jug. Don’t call it an orange juice jug. I told you, it’s a practice.’
‘Okay, well, how do you walk a practice dog? It doesn’t have any legs.’
Ace smiled like he had been waiting for this question. He went over to his bedside table and opened the drawer. Out of it he brought a long nylon leash with a metal ring on one end. He threaded it through the handle of the jug and put the nylon hand loop at one end through the ring out the other. He then pulled the leash tight and let go.
‘What do you do with a dog that has no legs?’
‘Sorry?’
‘I told you kid, enough with the sorry! What you do with a dog that has no legs is, you take him out for a drag.’
‘You what?’
‘It’s a joke, but with your practice dog, that’s what you do. Two, maybe three times a day, you put on his leash and take him for a walk.’
‘Outside?’
‘Of course outside. Unless you want him to do his business in the house.’
‘His business? An orange juice jug can’t—’
‘Look, kid. This is not going to work if you keep saying orange juice jug. Practice. Dog.’
‘A practice dog can’t go to the bathroom.’
Ace smiled again, he went back to his bedside table and opened a drawer. He returned carrying a dog of bag food.
‘Wanna bet?’ He said.”
To find out more about Zelly and Ace, read the book.
