"modom (palindrome guy)" > wrote in message
...
> D's away at a summer institute at Ohio State. Has been for almost a
> week. There's nobody to talk to around here till she gets back next
> week. Jeeze, I've been married a long time and it's starting to show.
>


> The dogs are following me around like I'm the canine messiah.

This line has had me laughing all morning. Thanks.
I hope you don't mind if I use it now and again.


I guess
> it's because I'm marginally smarter than they are and I feed them. If
> they had opposable thumbs, it would be a different story. Lefty, the
> long haired dachshund, barfed twice this afternoon and his breath
> reeks of something dead he got into out back. I haven't found the
> dead something yet. He might have eaten all of it. He's going to
> want to sleep with me tonight. The souls of the dammed in the furnace
> of hell want glasses of iced tea, too.
>
> So I'm making dinner tonight, trying not to think about doing the
> dog-towel laundry that must be done, and Lefty's at my feet, waiting
> for stuff to fall so he can scarf it. Dogs. Anyhow, he gags once.
> Twice. Thrice. I'm saying to him: "It's the dead shit you ate. Don't
> eat dead shit." Saying it like he comprehends more English than
> "dinner" and "outside," and "where's your baby?" Well he does get
> "Drop it!" When he's in the mood to. But admonitions about proper
> dietary considerations and eating dead shit aren't ever going to have
> any behavioral effects. His wee brain ain't wired robustly enough for
> that.
>
> Talking to Lefty is, however, often more effective (or at least more
> satisfying) than talking to Roscoe, who is old, almost deaf, mostly
> blind and toothless. Also he has a heart condition and what the vet
> calls "compromised kidneys." Also he seizes up several times a day
> when something he isn't expecting looms into view. A screen door, for
> example. His wee brain seems to short circuit and he comes down with
> the blind staggers. The vet says it's a form of dementia. We rescued
> Roscoe almost 15 years ago. He's what they call a rat terrier mix.
>
> Molly is the dog we inherited when D's mom passed away. She's a lanky
> strawberry blond mutt with a funny face and a funny gait. Her face is
> funny because of her black button eyes and black button nose. Her
> gait is funny because she looks like a tiny trotter horse when she
> patrols the back yard in the morning. Molly's okay, except that the
> day after D left I had to trim the hairs around her anus for hygienic
> reasons that I've already said too much about. If you get my drift.
>
> We have too many dogs. And they have too many issues.
>
> I have to wash my hands a lot because of them.
>
> Dinner: homemade pizza with Point Reyes bleu cheese, chopped red
> onion, olive oil and anchovy paste, and fresh basil leaves. On the
> side: a salad of chopped watermelon, chopped avocado, and chopped
> mango. Dressed with an olive oil, lime, serrano chile, and cilantro
> vinaigrette.
>
> A word about the basil: it volunteered this spring out in the
> vegetable patch. Last year I planted holy basil, Thai basil, and some
> other variety that I don't remember. What sprouted this spring was
> the product of some seriously randomized cross-pollination. Even my
> basil is a mutt.
> --
> modom
>
> "It's almost too late to be early."
> ** Posted from http://www.teranews.com **