For no apparent reason I have this particular tendency of making friends (especially girls) due to my outstanding sponge bob effect. By this I mean I can absorb so much information and baggage that they can give without judging them at all but unfortunately I don’t reciprocate the same uncanning nature of blubbing about my demons to kingdoms beyond.
But if I said that I have a best friend in this life of mine I would be greatly lying to myself but mostly to you my dear reader. I only have close friends, homies, niggas and enemies but best friends, I have none, zero, kaput, zit nothing at all.
My dear readers don’t be too quick to spin your head around this web of spiral thoughts that is already tingling at the back of your head like some sort of spidey sense. If best friend was to be defined as someone I can trust to be there for me and listen to my shit then I do have a best friend and also do crazy shit together and goof around then on the second thought I guess I have a best friend.
My best friend or comrade if you may like is called Max. Theoretically speaking he is man’s best friend. If there is still someone who doesn’t understand (May God bless his soul). He is a dog. A canine. A four legged furry dog.
He is not a royal bred dog but he makes me laugh on more accounts than expected. Yes I accept the fact that I might be losing it but to come up with such a name: BabaMboga does prove that I have lost it. But stories of me losing it will be pondered upon on another day in another realm.
Let me justify why I would call a mangy mutt my best of pals.
Me and Max understand each other more deeply than any human being I have met yet because we share our problems.
“How!?” Any lay man would ask.
Mostly you must understand that I am the one doing the talking but the best part of it all is that he listens and I feel that at least that should count for something. Some nights when the sky is as dark as space with gleaming stars that form constellations stretching throughout the sky I reach deep down where my demons lie and tip over the cup of thoughts in my mind. I rant and rant and rant about shit and shit and shit and yes more shit (exactly my point; to you and most humans it would be sooooo boring). Unlike most humans I know Max sits there attentive with his tongue out and adapts to the mood.
What do I mean by adapt to the mood?
If I’m low he will lay down with his head on his front feet and look like something the cat dragged in, when I’m sad he tries to cheer me up by licking my face, when I’m in pain he makes those cute dog noises of pain that nobody can resist we sulk together, when I’m happy he jumps up and down wagging his tail like he is hoping today it will fall off and when I’m talking he won’t even walk away; he will sit there faithfully unless distracted by food or a bitch but usually it’s just food.
This relationship fortunately is a two-way traffic thus I’m also there for him any day when he feels angry I’m by default also very angry, when he is pain I’m also in pain and I feel it deep inside and when he is rendered with too much steam I usually hand him my leg so that he can hump his way to stardom.
And if you think that’s the gist of the matter we both have this nitty gritty of impressing our father and looking up to him for hope as we obey or hope to obey all his commands. Me and Max both feel indebted to a lifetime of looking after my small bro and we both get constant praise and criticism from mum yet she needs us but unlike me who only fights my mum with words Max does it more psychologically than expected but I guess he does it for the rest of us who can’t do anything to her. I give this dog credit for fighting our fights. Apparently these two hate each other to worlds unbeyond and back. Things Max has done to mum (I chuckle at them when I think back); pooped on the verandah so many times knowing mum will clean it, tear her clothes when she is wearing them just to scare her off, drag clothes that have been washed and hanged on the ground till they are much more dirtier than they were before washed just because he is a dog but don’t get it twisted cause Max does love mum as he is always happy when she gets home from wherever she has been but you may never know he might just be sarcastic.
But that’s my boy.
We are more like Mr. Peabody and Sherman but with reverse roles. And just like in family guy if I needed a kidney transplant he would give me one of his kidneys very fast or so I believe. So these is the story of two best friends of totally different species but hey try to beat me and let’s see what Max think of you in fact I won’t even lift a finger he will deal with you squarely. He is le familiar and without him I guess my family won’t be complete.