What I knew was this – out of the billions of people who have peopled this place, out of the thousands of years or hundreds of thousands of years that our wet planet has been spinning in space, many things and people have been stopping in for a brief stay and I’ve gotten to be one of them. Nice.
Someone asked, “Why were you a beneficiary?” and I have to say, “Who cares about why things happen when it benefits Me!” I’m so pleased to share the following with you.
I’m guessing that such labels have much more to do with litigation than with concern for customers, but I’m only guessing,
However, to the point. Today I joined my human parents aboard our boat, PineAweigh, for a brief cruise into Dyes Inlet . . .
My acquaintance, a published storyteller, messaged me:
“you have been successfully programed by CNN.
. . . the book and my glasses were somewhere on my chest or on the floor, and my sleep was being disturbed by a noise. A familiar noise.
If you’ve read the previous sixteen “Puppy” blogs, you know that Scooter understands at least 23 words. He knows what a command is. He’s done well, this 70% fully grown boy bearing all body parts and a puppy coat. Scooter’s development and training has advanced, swimmingly. But, on the particular day I strive to describe, it was as if a spell of forgetfulness had fallen.
But, back to our pup’s willingness to bite. People. He shouldn’t. But, he has. Me. This is a mistake and we mean for it to be corrected.
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!
