I forgot how to sign into my blog. Geez. This has taken an inordinate amount of time to get this far.
So, I’m finally better. Better than what? A dead skunk on the side of the road, that’s what.
I’m spending my free time at the board and care visiting my buddies Alex and Frank. Here’s a photo of them taken with my phone’s crappy camera.
Alex has ALS and Frank is 91, though I can’t seem to remember that and made some remark today about him being 92. He bellowed at me, “Do I look like I’m 92?”
“No, no,” I just can’t remember I stammered. “You look 75. You look younger than Mel.” (Mel is the trustee of Frank’s estate.) “Doesn’t Frank look younger than Mel?” I asked Alex, dragging him into my misstep in an effort to extricate myself.
Alex hem hawed around, so Frank bellowed some more at me. “Now look, you’ve put Alex on the spot.”
Alex finally said, ‘Well, I’m used to looking at you, Frank.” Frank seemed satisfied with Alex’s answer though it made no sense at all. And so, we moved onto other topics like where was the mail?
I was walking him around the shopping center this weekend thinking you are The Mechanical Dog, the perfect dog. Just then, a black poodle approached. I thought “Don’t bark,” and he didn’t. We walked on a bit father and a fluffy small red dog approached and I thought, “Hey a red dog. You should bark, Mechanical dog. Add some spice to our lives.” And he barked and trotted off. Last night he curled up beside me. In my sleep, I thought he was a pillow, and I fluffed his rump. He growled mechanically. He is perfect in every way. He is The Mechanical Dog.
To lie in the warm dirt on a sunny day.
So, this is our boy, which is the same boy, who is in the post below this one, except this is his short look. The photo in the post below this one is his loooooong look.
I feel like this is an optical illusion, butt (ha ha) it’s not. He farts and no wonder it smells so bad. Look how far the fart travels inside his innards to build up stench. Tail like a tiny whip. He the man!
Maui, in his enthusiasm, jumped off the sofa and hurt his leg a week or so ago. The sofa paid the price. The Big Guy and I hauled the sofa from the living room into the driveway and cut 5 inches off of each leg, practically rendering it legless. The sawed off sofa is Maui’s throne. He is seen here gracefully walking down his ramp (which he had at the time of the accident). Now, if he decides to super dog it off his throne he probably will not hurt himself. He is receiving therapy every day, or I should say more appropriately I am trying to give him therapy, but it mostly ends in giving myself therapy because the dog is so stubborn that I am doing most of the work. He has mended enough to return to his full walking routine, which is actually a sniffing routine with many stops where his nose detects God knows what – a MacDonald’s wrapper, dog pee, a raccoon walked the spot last night, gum, etc. He is a determined little soul and we will not walk on until he is satisfied sniffing. Our house is The House of Stubborn. God knows who is more stubborn – me, my hubby, or the dog. At least he is in the right place where stubborn is an art form and appreciated as such.
This is crazy flower. He bloomed in the middle a cold front we had, and seemed quite pleased with himself that he burst forward in the dead of winter. No idea he’s not supposed to there. Kind of like wearing a tux to McDonald’s.