One of my first mem'ries was living in a place called Shears Hollow with my parents...it was a one-room cabin 'n very isolated altho' I don't really remember the isolated part...my Dad worked nights 'n a friend of my Mom, a lady named Micki Hammond, loaned us her dog, a Belgian Shepard...he was a very protective dog 'n altho it hadn't been Micki's intent, she lost her dog to me...he was the first dog I ever had....
Rainy day Sundays....drip, drip, spatter, spatter.....all day long....well, ‘most all day long, a short pause in late morning then back attit....ah well, first I tink vell, den I tink hell, den I tink vell, wat de hell.....old joke ‘n originally done in a fake, very thick Swedish brogue....
Had a mobile groomer come by this morning ‘n bathe ‘n shear da boyz... I swear, poor Ol Rusty just looks embarrassed by it all...he was so matted ‘n his wool so thick ‘n now he’s down almost to bone...well, not quite but he’s sheared so close that he looks like a skinhead whippet...which wudn’t be so bad if’n he was a whippet but he’s a miniature poodle ‘n very put out by the whole thing....Willie on that proverbial other hand is carefree ‘n exceedingly nonchalant about the entire proceeding..
‘course, nuthin’ much ever fazes Willie....he just likes to eat, sleep ‘n chase....chickens, squirrels, cars, flying papers ‘n the occasional leaf....
When I was younger, the steady sound of falling rain (is there any other kind) was soothing ‘n the monotony would lull a body to sleep....now, the sound of the rain wakes me up ‘n sez, “Go to the bathroom, you old fart!”...as if I ackshully needed a reminder at my age...
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