Lamont Diaries continued
July 27, 2012
Lamont Angers the Highest Levels of Washington Political Power
My pal, Lamont, considers his frequent jaunts surveying his domain of the Capitol Hill neighborhood of Washington D.C. the highlight of his days.

He especially likes going to the nearby Abraham Lincoln park, where he is free from the dreaded bondage of the dog leash and has many friends and an impressive fan club. They run the gamut from the drunks and homeless who frequent the park benches who he never fails to individually greet, to the daily canine regulars and their humans who gather each evening among whom he has many friends and fans.
But Lamont has a particular fetish for young human children, preferably under four, who, when spotted, receive Lamont’s undivided attention with lots of wiggles and smooches and exchangers of shrieks of delight. The feeling is mutual.

Until today….

Lamont and I were bounding about the park when he spotted a said short person, a young girl of about three, accompanied by a couple of adults and a dog.
Lamont came to a halt. He stared straight at her. He began to whimper and wiggle furiously. Then he bounded at full speed to give her a personal greeting. As all eight inches high of Lamont galloped towards the base of the statue of Abraham Lincoln, the child reacted with glee.
Lamont passed ignoring her dog. He passed ignoring her grown-ups. And lift off,  wheels up, Lamont was airborne, with tongue wagging.
And Lamont made full body contact with the now alarmed child, as she herself became momentarily airborne and crash landed on her back at the base of the statue of the author of the Emancipation Proclamation. With Lamont splayed over her his tongue smooching  her face furiously, the copious moisture of Lamont’s saliva mixing with her equally copious tears.
I arrived seconds behind him and freed the poor child from the grip of Lamont’s unquenchable affection. And, on my knees, holding the young canine terrorist, I looked up… into the eyes, peering over his glasses perched on his nose of the ravaged child victim’s adult guardian, which were skyward, about one meter above, framed by a very decided scowl, staring at me.
Those eyes and that scowl belonged to Senator Carl Levin, who, it turned out, was said victims grandfather. As in Senator Carl Levin, Chairman of the Armed Services Committee, Committee on Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs, Subcommittee on Federal Financial Management, Government Information, Federal Services, and International Security, Subcommittee on Oversight of Government Management, the Federal Workforce, and the District of Columbia, Chairman of the Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations, Ad Hoc Subcommittee on Contracting Oversight, and Select Committee on Intelligence.
A man who could make Lamont’s—and my– life very unpleasant, very quickly.
Both Lamont and I stuttered our sincere, very quick apologies and fled.
“Lamont, pal, “I huffed as we exited, “ If you aren’t more careful you are going to get us both in BIG trouble.” Lamont looked up at me, nipped at my ankle, and said: “Relax! I had fun. What’s wrong with you people?”
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