It has become like Waterford clear that I don't own a dog. He owns me.He's got me wrapped around his paw. I'm totally conditioned like someone who can't miss Glenn Beck. Depending on his whimper, which he's trained me to understand, I leap into action — mostly taking him out for an adventure in smelling and rediscovering the PPTP (Perfect Place To Poop) which I wrote a blog about. But he's also trained me to throw his ball, after fighting the slimy thing out of jaws that could crush rebar.
I can't write anymore because Dildog's giving me that look, and that whimper, so I'll just end this with a totally gratuitous photo of me in a bikini and looking quizical. And I have to tell you, I feel practically naked without my cowboy hat and boots.But I gotta do it, because it seems that here on OS, I get like ten times more views and twenty times more comments if I put out with a cheap thrill. And since ya'll write way more bettter than me (even the preverts), I guess my bikini shots have become like the mandatory lesbian scenes in the movies ya'll rent.
Oh, and the cute photo of Dildog isn't really him. He refuses to wear the neat clothes I buy for him, even cool cowboy handkerchiefs and cowboy hats and fringy vests, so I used a stand-in dog that looks like him when he was about three months old, and didn't own me yet.
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Lyn LeJeune
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Comments
By the way, the bikini is great...it throws all the dogs a bone.
And thanks for the bikini shot, it is the highlight of my perverted day.
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Aren't dog's the best??? Mine is a dalmation/pit bull mix. So ugly he's cute. My daughter call's him the fire watcher. He owns all of us.
Have a good weekend.