Read Online I'm Not Gonna Lie by George Lopez - Free Book Online

think I’d have to worry about any weird behavior with my new twenty-something girlfriend and her Chihuahua puppy. This dog was into me, and the three of us liked to hang out. I did have to adjust to one minor quirk that kind of threw me off.
    My girlfriend liked to dress the puppy up in dresses, skirts, and other girly doggy outfits. Come on; it’s not that bad. Actually, dressing the dog up didn’t really bother me. I kind of got into it. One day I put a Lakers jersey on the dog—same one I had on, only smaller—and the two of us settled onto the couch to watch the game. I even let the dog sip my beer.
    Then a few months later, tragedy struck.
    The puppy got sick and died. Just like that. The poor little dog contracted some rare illness and that was the end. Doggy heaven. Unbelievably shocking.
    My girlfriend fell into a terrible depression. The loss of her little puppy knocked the wind out of her. She couldn’t get out of bed. She just lay there, day after day, comatose, sobbing, not eating.
    I was determined to do something to snap her out of her funk. I tried cheering her up with jokes, inviting her friends to visit, spending as much time with her as she wanted, giving her as much space as she needed. I even tried
listening.
Hard as hell for guys to do, but I did it. I didn’t interrupt or nod off or reach for the remote. Not once. Nothing helped. I was at a loss. Then my friend RJ told me about a pet psychic.
    â€œYou won’t believe this woman,” RJ said. “She converses with the dead.”
    â€œBy converses, you mean . . . You don’t mean . . . What do you mean?”
    â€œShe talks to people’s dead pets.”
    â€œOkay, see, right there, I’m suspicious, because dogs can’t talk,” I said.
    â€œTrue, but they have thoughts. Supposedly. This pet psychic reads their thoughts.”
    â€œI see. She reads their dead thoughts,” I said. “They can’t be the dog’s current thoughts, because the dog is currently dead.”
    â€œI don’t know how it works.”
    â€œSo, after a dog dies, the thoughts live on? Is that it? Where do they go? Do they get captured in a thought bubble? Or maybe dogs continue to have thoughts even after they die. Maybe their body passes on but their mind keeps going. Is that how this works? Help me out here.”
    â€œHow should I know? I’m just saying that maybe if your girlfriend talks to her dog, she’ll feel better. Knowing the dog’s in a better place and all.”
    â€œOkay, I see, yes, well, this sounds insane. Off-the-charts nuts. Where is this pet psychic freak weirdo, anyway?”
    â€œHermosa Beach. You have to pay cash. Plus I heard she’s not cheap.”
    â€œI bet. She probably charges an arm and a paw.”
    A pet psychic. I couldn’t believe I was even having this conversation. Like I was ever gonna drive halfway to San Diego down the horrendous 405, the world’s busiest, most congested, most migraine-inducing freeway, and pay through the nose—er, snout—cash, so my girlfriend could talk to her dead dog.
    I told my girlfriend about the pet psychic, laughing pretty much the whole time, maybe being a little bit dismissive. I noticed as I was talking that her eyes got wide. When I was finished, she sat up in bed. It was the first sign of life I’d seen from her in a week.
    â€œWe have to go,” she said.
    â€œTo the pet psychic? See, I’m not sure she’s legit; plus we have to go on the freeway—”
    She slid back down into the bed and gave me what I can only call a sad, puppy-dog look. Melted me. That sealed it. I had no choice. I made an appointment with the pet psychic.
    And that’s how we ended up stuck on the 405 in rush-hour traffic at noon, which is not even rush hour, but on the 405 you’re always stuck in rush-hour traffic.
    I was intrigued. I actually wanted to meet the pet