Howdy folks, ok I'll admit it, I'm totally winging it today. There's a good reason for that though, I have the plague. Yep, the black death. I'm sure of it. No flu is this bad. I thought I dodged that H1N1 bullet, but I guess I just wasn't fast enough, pardner. Bury me with my boots on. Hmm.. better buy me some boots first, then bury me in 'em.
And will someone get this guy with the black cloak and sickle outta here? He's blocking the tv. Hey! Down in front! Jerkoff.
My dog, Hunter has been in bed with me all day. He's a good ol' loyal beagle. Well, loyal or opportunistic as hell, I'm not sure. He likes to sleep under the covers of course, so there's this Beagle-sized "HunterLump" in the middle of the bed. Oh and he kicks his legs when he's dreaming. Yeah, it's as much fun as it sounds. I named him Hunter before I found out he's afraid of anything that sounds like a gunshot. Thunder, fireworks and umm, gunshots I suppose. Poor dog, the 4th of July is hell on him.
But then, it's funny what kind of neuroses you find in dogs. Goofy shit sometimes to be sure. My friends Lee (R.I.P. bro) and Karen had a boarder collie named Ian. Ian was a fun, playful, wonderful dog that was just a riot to play with. Ian had a couple of interesting quirks though... odd things made him slink away in fear with his tail between his legs.
First, there was the ducks.
More generally, anything that even remotely sounded duck-like. If you looked at Ian and made a Donald Duck sounding little quack noise at him, there he'd go, slinking away, never taking his eyes off of you. One time we were all sitting around the living room, drinking of course, and all took turns quacking at Ian. He'd slink from person to person looking for someone to save him from the quacking.
Oh don't get your undies in a bunch, we only did it a couple times, then we all gave him treats so it was all good.
Then there was the tubes. Paper towel tubes, toilet paper tubes. STRAWS. Ok, the duck thing I can understand... maybe he pissed off mama duck when he was a puppy or something... but STRAWS? I don't know if there was a difference between bendy or regular straws.
Come to think of it, my other dog, a Pomeranian named Sampson has a few quirks of his own too. One, he hides... under the couch, under the chair, under the bed. Any time the going gets tough, the tough go under the recliner and bark ferociously from there. Yeah, um, not so fierce there boy.
His other thing is that he loves his toys. He'll play with his tennis balls for hours, but he loves his stuffed, squeaky toys. He'll wrestle and flip his little stuffed critter around the room, chase it after he throws it and then throw it again. And then, he humps it.
You read that right.
It's not just a couple little quickies either. I swear I start hearing some smooth jazz playing in the background after a while. To paraphrase a line from Family Guy "Ok Sampson, you were dominant 15 minutes ago, now you're just on vacation."
Hunter is kicking me in the leg again so I guess that means it's time to wrap this up. The guy in the cloak is looking kinda bored too and is starting to rummage through the dresser. I better keep an eye on him.
First off, tell that dude in the black cloak to go away. You aren't going to die. If you died, I would have no place to comment in your blog, because you wouldn't be writing. Because of the whole dead thing.
ReplyDeleteAnd I happen to like your blog a lot. Of course, I happen to like you a lot, too, so I guess that only stands to reason.
Feel better, okay?
*hugs*
Thank you Lori...
ReplyDeleteYeah he left. He got bored, gave me his *pager* number (HA!) and told me to beep him if I felt I was starting to slip. I'll get right on that, buddy.
Actually I started feeling better as the day went on. I'm still congested as hell and my ribs hurt from coughing, but I think the worst has passed.