Memoir Writing Contest: Yippie Yippie Green by Pamila Jo Florea

by Matilda Butler on September 1, 2011

catnav-scrapmoir-active-3Post #117 – Women’s Memoirs, ScrapMoir – Matilda Butler and Kendra Bonnett

Women’s Memoirs is pleased to publish YIPPIE YIPPIE GREEN by Pamila Jo Florea. This memoir vignette by Pamila was awarded an honorable mention in our Women’s Memoir March Memoir Writing Contest–Reflections on Green, Memories of Life Observed category. Congratulations Pamila Jo.

YIPPIE YIPPIE GREEN

by Pamila Jo Florea

 
The fur was green.  Not just green like the green, green grass of home or John Deere green or the Jolly Green Giant of the famous jingle.  The fur – what there was of it – was neon green.  Ne.  On.  Green.  It was the kind of green that makes you think of apples that hurt your stomach if you eat them too soon, the kind of green that makes you think of E Coli, the kind of green that baby’s do. do. 

No, this poor little Korean-born shih tzu had been turned into a green striped Pepe Le Pew, all white except for the green stripe that went right down its back.  “The indignity of it all.” I swore I could hear what that poor dog was thinking.  “I hope nobody sees me.” 

I didn’t know the woman who carried her sweet little snookie wookie sugar bear into the store.  But she was a foreigner, like me.  I knew because of – well besides the way she looked – not a drop of Korean blood in her I didn’t think, but also from the snookie wookie sugar bear part that fell out of her mouth.

That was the moment I realized I’d never really fit into Korean culture.  I would not be getting a purse dog and dye its hair a neon color so I could recognize it – or humiliate the poor thing depending on your perspective.  No, I would keep visiting my friend and her black pug.  I’d still go home to my little gray and white doggies.  I’d cuddle up with the golden retriever I saw in the park. 

I believe that dogs should not be neon, that beds should be big enough to share even if you are alone with only your pooch for company, and that having fewer than four settings for your table doomed you to a lonely existence of few friends and even fewer visitors. No, never would I integrate huge chunks of the culture of the country I chose to live in.

Not the same dog, but a similar green

Not the same dog, but a similar green

And so I continued into the grocery store as the snooky wookie and its person stopped by the pet lockers at the entrance. I continued toward the escalator to eventually travel down to the first then second level below ground to peruse the myriad of vegetables I recognized – zucchini (ish), peas, asparagus, and bok choy.  There were others I didn’t recognize – including all manner of pickled vegetable. 

Just then, in the grocery store, moving my cart along the electro magnetic escalator that went down, I couldn’t help turning my head back.  I saw the woman shut the door on snookie wookie, a clump of green fur attaching itself to her coat.  While I’ve always heard – and believed – that an outfit isn’t complete without animal fur, who knew that it was green fur that made the celebration?  I’ll tell you the craic right here (that’s Irish talk for “dealio” more or less)  – you couldn’t miss this holiday with that clump of green hair just above her right armpit.  You couldn’t, indeed.  I don’t, however, think that was what St. Patrick had in mind.  

On the way out the door, my Guinness in one hand and my green cupcakes in the other, I stopped by the dog lockers at the entrance.  In a conspiratorial voice, I whispered to Snookie Wookie, “I know a good hairdresser baby.  How about a nice auburn red?  That’s as Irish as that green you are a-wearing.”  The only response I got for my compassion was a high pitched yip.

Ah well.  Enough shopping.  Off to the pub – that’s just about as Irish as you can get with brown fur…  I mean hair.


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