Monday, March 31, 2008

There Will Be Hell to Pay . . .

Don't let the sad face fool you . . .

Or the pitiful thousand-yard stare . . .

Nor the merely apparent image of resigned submission to the detachable shower head . . .

My Dignity is Sacred.

My Vengeance is . . . well, still being contemplated. From the security of my Bunker.

Monday, March 24, 2008

Piling On; Or, How To Make An Omega Sandwich

Yeah, I know that Hector did most of the work wrestling Rocky down to the ground. But as the Alpha Female in the park, I too had my role to play in this ritual drama of dominance and subordination, i.e., I got to dominate Rocky's hind quarters. Rocky seemed to resent being treated like an Omega, though. So later, it became necessary to brandish a stick in her face - the ultimate humiliation!


Monday, March 17, 2008

Sunday, March 16, 2008

To Brandish

Brandish \bran-dish\ vt [OF, fr. brand sword; akin to OE brand] 1: to shake or wave (as a weapon) menacingly. 2: to exhibit in an ostentatious or aggressive manner.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Sunday, March 9, 2008

Stuck in a Moment, er, Fountain . . .

Okay, man: my "vertical" ain't that great. But I was thirsty, and I saw that there was standing water in the drained public fountain. Look, I'm gonna survive. And I'm sure I would have figured out a way to heave my girth outta there, eventually . . .

Still Proud,


Sunday, March 2, 2008

Sunday Morning Walk Report

This was a pretty good one. Although I was woken up approximately half an hour before I was ready to rise, I was immediately chauffeured to my Monkey-Person's cafe in Highland Park. He got a coffee (to go) and I got dessicated duck disk (delicious!). Then we walked to the woods behind the King Mansion where I offered my leadership to pair of hounds out with their monkey-woman. The first one to greet me was receptive, but the pure-bred Chow Chow named "Maya" balked and, in fact, threatened my life. So I let it go. Besides, the scent of living meat was in cold morning air.

I demanded a treat of my Monkey-Person, then pursued some deer tracks that up a hill through the snow. No sooner had I achieved the crest than I detected one of the greatest treats known to hound: wild turkeys. There were four, fat wild turkeys, huddled together in the brush. I took off like a shot! The trick is to chomp your teeth onto a wing and then give it a vicious, side-to-side, bone-snapping shake.

I had my mouth open for just this purpose when damn if they didn't all take flight simultaneously! There they were, four fat forms heaving themselves into the white, winter sky. Seeing them clearly, I continued chase until I reached the crest . . . and was forced to stop. The hill dropped into a small, shear gorge of ice-covered rock. I could feel the saliva cooling in the corners of my mouth as I watched the turkeys make a formation landing on the other side of the divide.

It was heartbreaking.

So, I hit my Monkey-Person up for not one, but three more duck disks, practicing civil disobedience after he objected to giving me treats #2 and #3. Then, on the way home, I twice mock-charged a miserably cold cat before urinating on his front yard.

Like I said, all in all, a pretty decent walk. I give it an A-.