Even without his permission, I mean to tell you that Scooter Sublime made a major mistake on April 17th . . .
Even without his permission, I mean to tell you that Scooter Sublime made a major mistake on April 17th . . .
There’s little you can do. It’s unlikely that you can find spiders and insects enough to feed a brood every 20 minutes. Let nature take its course.”
I’m drawn to all this because my mom, Alice, was born in May, 1918, in Bisbee, Arizona and while the infant mortality rate hurled high, while thousands were dying and many more suffered the flu, my mom and her parents, survived.
Now, about Scooter Sublime. This yet growing twenty pound pup my husband privately calls “Frenzy,”
“Scooter! NO! Release! Bad Scooter!” said I, body extended on the floor, hand reaching to retrieve that which is forbidden.
it was Monday, February third, when I first approached my computer’s keyboard, meaning to tell the exciting news that Scooter Sublime had “lifted his leg.
It was a good thing, the giving of this hard-to-break-into-chewing-tossing-hiding-in-the-sofa-pillows-toy. Bravo!
Coffee, computer, and a quiet house this pre-dawn Christmas morning . It’s Scooter Sublime time in my mind. I’m tapping thoughts of his tail from the tips of my fingers. I’ve been wondering, is it possible that his tail could be broken? You know, benevolently.
This isn’t Christmas card suitable, this thought. It’s more like, “Merry Christmas! Let me mess up the traditional message.”
An unpredictable pulse of energy — a jump from one interaction to another.” Yep, Scooter!
I saw darling dog stretched out on the carpet, chewing. Chewing what? I wondered. Not his green ball, no. it wasn’t his stuffed Lamb, hedgehog, or teddy-bear; not his “safe, unflavored teething ring,” not the blue Kong tire, or the yellow monkey’s knot rope toy. What was it?