Is the sky falling, Chicken Little?
It will come as no surprise that mom has been hogging the PC tighter than I hog my Beggin’ Strips—and that’s mighty tight.
I might be silent here when she’s working, but there’s anything but silence going on in my canine brain.
Apparently, I’ve risen to the rank of a sounding board for news and ideas.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m proud of my mom and I love that her work makes her ecstatic. But, really?
I can’t read books. I don’t have the digits to even pick up a book. Is there a plausible element in the grand scheme of reasonable thinking that would make my mom believe that 1)I really care about all the news she shared with me (you should see how excited she gets) and 2)physically showing me the outside of a book while saying “Look Freddie! How awesome is this?!” is supposed to make me excited?
Okay. I have to be honest. I do get a little excited. But, in my defense, it has nothing to do with the book per se but with voice tone.
Heck. I am a dog. Excited voices make us excited, too. It’s nature. We can’t help it. Without any control, our subconscious kick starts causing us to wag our tails and jump up and down. Not to hurt her feelings, but it is called nature, mom—not the book!
Don’t tell her, but I have been thinking a little about one book she’s been raving about. Mafia Cop, I think she calls it.
Apparently, the book is a true crime docudrama that reveals inner workings and a mixture of elements in law enforcement and organized crime.
At one point, I think I heard something about a buried body that no one ever found. I am intrigued by how this was done as I have personally struggled with keeping my buried treasures from the noses of my peers. Mental note: explore this further.
There’s also a reference to The Rolling Stones, a helicopter, a wild concert, and, well, a murder. I don’t know how the murder part is supposed to affect me, a dog, and I am darned sure not getting in a helicopter, but I do love music. Even I wouldn’t mind knowing how the Stones enter in this picture. Mental note: jump my highest when hearing a Stones’ song to encourage continued play. Subnote: heard something on television about the Stones—Jagger, I think—being on Letterman last night. Hmmm. Interesting.
I will be listening harder to see what other events might help ole Doggebone to improve his canine skills!
In the meantime, mom progressed from Mafia Cop to some sappy romance. Really, again, mom? Romance? I’ve been neutered remember? And even so, I am the smallest, shortest of all the canines for miles around. My love life is non-existent, so why torture me!
However, there was this one hot babe that came around a couple of year ago. She was a little scruffy but it worked for her. Long legs (all four of ‘em). Perfect fur coloring: a nice mixture of black, white, gray, and a touch of brown (mom says it was dirt from being a s-t-r-a-y) and a full, long wagging tail. She liked me, too.
But it was one of those whirlwind romances that are destined to end before they really begin. I know she felt something for me—and I for her. Of all the canines, I was the only one she would let hang around for more than five minutes. Mom says it’s because of my size; because I couldn’t “bother” her. I know different. We had something. Something real. It was one of those once in a lifetime encounters that become molded in the heart. Mom says it’s hormones and they pass in two-three weeks.
I can still see her. She turned to look at me one last time before she tauntingly trotted down the road. She wanted me to go with her. I had family obligations. Choices. I know I made the right one, but that brief moment of true love will live with me forever.
Okay. Well, it seems I’ve drifted a bit off track. Emotional memories will do that to a
Anyway. I guess this is where I’ll end for today. I am hoping mom will want to talk a little more about Mafia Cop. There really are some secret hiding techniques I want to learn. Though, I don’t really know if burying tactics will help me since I’ve recently been banned from digging.
If I recall correctly, someone in the book did some hiding without have to actually dig.
An open grave? A coffin? Something to that effect, I believe.
Will investigate further.
Gotta go. Got stuff to figure out.
Until next time, cherish those you love—even those brief fleeting moments.
-Doggebone (aka the treasure hiding, love machine)