It took some time for me and Blondie to catch our breath after running like the proverbial wind from my once live-in ex boyfriend who chose the corner of Sunset Blvd and Larabee to beat us up. But now we were safe sitting in my locked car in front of the Perkins home where I was house sitting for the summer. I waited for my lingering dizziness to go away before stepping out of the car. I didn't know if it was the result of Bobby's blows or an overwhelming a sense of shock that this middle class girl from the valley had actually been the victim of domestic violence. That sort of behavior was just not supposed to happen to someone like me. And to top it off, Bobby hurt the one being I loved the most in the world, my pound mutt Blondie.
Once inside, I took the pretty pink collar off Blondie and threw it in the trash.
"We'll get you a new collar, Miss B," I told her and she wagged her tail as if in agreement.
Rubbing my temples, I headed straight for my bedroom to lie down. I felt so numb that I was ice cold, shivering as if I had fallen into a bathtub filled with ice. I motioned for Blondie to join me in bed and checked her body to make sure she wasn't suffering from some trauma as the result of the night's unfortunate incident. I moved her head to the right, then to the left as I rubbed her neck softly. She closed her eyes, enjoying the massage.
We lay there while I thought about what had just taken place. It was as if I had crossed a line of sorts and not in a good way. Then I realized that while Bobby was hitting me I hadn't fought back until he brought Blondie into the mess. I kissed her and thanked her for waking me up, getting me to fight back, to stand up.
That was the night I first sang to her what became our song, Helen Reddy’s “You and Me Against the World.” I sang the words softly to her as we lay there, licking our wounds together: “You and me against the world, sometimes it feels like you and me against the world, when all the others turn their back and walk away, you can count on me to stay.”