At some point, this afternoon, a girl put her torch down at her soldering bench, walked up the back steps of her house, wandered into a spare room a boy was busy renovating and said, “Let’s go for a walk. Let’s go for a walk and let’s take the Happy Dog and the Weenie Dog.”
So they did.
The sun flexed its puny little brink-of-spring muscles and the girl took a chance and wore nothing but wool and a teal dress.
When they arrived at the other side of town, the girl and the boy released the Happy Dog into the park.
The Happy Dog ran free and wild.
No other dog could keep up with his pace.
He frothed at the mouth.
He whirled and leaped in the February sunlight.
He peed on a couple of rocks.
He bit his sister on the bottom.
He even managed to get his own spit all over his face.
Then the Happy Dog turned into Psycho-Ewok-From-Hades (which is sort of like a Basilisk in its ability to cause death with a single glance).
The Weenie Dog, quaked and trembled atop her digger paws.
The girl quaked and trembled in her Birkenstocks.
The boy yawned, looked at his wrist watch and said he was hungry.
Then the Happy Dog used the facilities as the heavens above opened up and shone down on their chosen canine of goodness, gladness, sniffiness, and excellent Master Hunter skills.
And the Happy Dog looked out over his domain and
thought, “Idaho is a darn tootin fine place!”
And the humans were happy too and so was Weenie (even though she’s blurry in this photo).
And on the way home, they all stopped at the squirrel tree and laughed
out loud as five of the pests poured out of the squirrel hole and ran up the tree trunk.
And they all had burgers or kibble for dinner
and it was a good day.
________________
DEDICATED TO CY
BECAUSE HE LOVES FARLEY SO
