Sunday, January 14, 2007

Walkin' the Dawg

The Love of my Life treats all the pets better than me, probably appropriate. This means she is very careful to see that they get plenty of exercise (cats?), among other things. Therefore the Basset Hound gets walked daily, unless it rains. The FESLGP (Flop Eared Short Legged Gas Passer) loves to "walk" because she gets to smell every pile of processed dog food for three miles. The FESLGP is also a better than average processer of dog food, so you are required by decency and statute to recover the stuff and properly dispose of same. I think I get invited along for this chore.
Honored I'm sure.
I am also the chauffeur because claws and leather upholstery aren't compatible, and my 4X4 wouldn't notice a flock of bears, never mind a small dog. While on our outing today I remembered something that the ignorance of my elder sibling brought to pass.

My sister always has more pets than money or brains. I mean she would adopt a T-Rex if she thought it would irritate someone. The adoptee in question was a large, hairy, overweight, black thing of questionable usefulness and heritage. She was driving daddy's mini pickup and had to secure the big black thing in the back. So the brain trust ties the dog to the bumper. All is well and the hairy thing lays down in the back of the truck. Now sis is stylin' cause all her transportation is on the run down side. She is cruising through our small town, and notices everyone staring at her as she drives by, must be the truck.

Luckily she didn't get over twenty or so cause the big hairy thing had jumped out of the truck and was doing a fair job of keepin' up. I guess the locals thought she was walkin' the dog. The big dummy, the dog not the sister, learned the lesson, no more trouble keeping him in the truck, no sir. I mean that dog wouldn't get up 'till you set the parking brake.

It's a good thing she didn't make the Interstate.

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