Doggedly speaking — there are some days…
Some days, my brain is swimming in the shallow waters of the thought spectrum.
Today is one of those days.
If you’re a Star Trek fan, you’ll understand this one: Life is like a Kobayashi Maru simulation, but no matter how much you cheat, you’ll never get out alive.
As I write this, my brain is functioning at the level of my dogs. I just want someone to feed me, provide me with a comfy place to sleep and — let’s cut to the chase — treat me like I’m royalty.
I had a dog once who was endowed with so little brain matter I wondered how he could walk. He literally chewed up half a couch one day.
The resulting mess looked a lot like this:
At present over 300 pounds of dog meat is sprawled out all over the house; my bed, the hallway, the kitchen and what passes for living room furniture.
Don’t believe me? Do the math:
- Rottie Mutt 80 pounds
- Dingo Mutt 60 pounds
- Found my prince, he was a dog 60 pounds
- Fence-jumping olympic champion 40 pounds
- Pretty Pittie 40 pounds
- BullDane Mutt 40 pounds
- Dad’s favorite 30 pounds
TOTAL 350 pounds
Okay, so I suck at math.
I’ll get to the point: There are two chairs not yet chewed beyond recognition. Both belong to the only 2 female dogs in the house: One of them is Pretty Pittie’s throne, the other belongs to the BullDane.
Enough about my bad case of brain drain and the fact that I’m owned by 7 dogs…
There’s a chocolate bar calling my name and I must obey its command to be eaten. That’s just about the only thing in this house the dogs and cats can’t have.