Tuesday, May 27, 2008
You know how some Tuesdays feel like Mondays.
This one did for one small basset hound named Ernest.
First, he was awoken from a deep sleep to go on a walk.
He ate breakfast and then curled back to sleep.
Then he was rudely interrupted to get up and get ready for work.
It was cloudy, nmom had a shady spot for him and there was a cheese stick as a bribe.
Off to work he went.
A few hours later, it was time for a walk.
The crows are nesting. They get very territorial and the believe that tiny black dogs and their tiny dark haired moms are going to attack their babies.
So, the dog and the nmom are constantly being attacked by the crows.
Baby crows, meh.
On his walk, before which he had a big drink of water, Ernest flat basseted six times. Six times, that means that his nmom had to right him six times. That is bad for her back and his.
He was also ignored by the Aussie shepherd, Bingo, who loves her Frisbee more than Ernest. Good thing that two kind souls came by to smooch him and tell him he was handsome.
When the returned to the bassetmobile, the crows had stolen Ernest's two postprandial biscuits and the rest of his low fat organic cheese stick.
Those menacing crows.
On the way home from work, Ernest went to see his Uncle Mike and got a pawdicure.
Things could only get better right? As much as he likes Uncle Mike, he does not like pawdicures.
He saw Armand, played on his lawn, barked at him. Went for two walks, where he flat basseted when he didn't get his way and was complimented on his looks, demeanor and his stunning personality.
He blushed, again.
Now, after checking the position of his th mom and wondering why it is not possible to create a overlay layer of station abundances on top of the grid so that interested scientists might be able to figure out what the heck is going on, he is chewing on a bone in his kennel.
His best Steve left him a biscuit. His grand mere inquired as to his health and when he would be back for a visit and his pre-bed ritual awaits his bone retirement.
Over and out,
nmom secretary and record keeper of the diary of Ernest the puppy, aged two years, two months and a few weeks