Howdy blogaroos! Squirmy Wormy here with another addition of your Sunday funnies.
Not a whole lot new here. I had class on Friday and I did great. The Warden – not so much. I have a lot of training to do with her. To begin with, most people hold their leashes in their left hands in rally and obedience. Not the Warden. She’s always held the leash in her right hand. So when our trainer suggested she switch to the other hand – she couldn’t walk. Really. She got all discombobulated- and I didn’t know WHAT she was doing. Anyway, she’ll try the left hand – but I’m not so sure it will work. Old habits are hard to break.
Otherwise, our COVID lifestyle continues. Kinda boring, but safe. We haven’t seen another human without a mask since Sue and Keith were here!
So since our household is blah, I turned to the news. Here’s a story about a dog in the UK who got lost. Millie was spotted in some marshlands and it was feared she might drown when the tide came in. Check out how they lured Millie to safety.
Like I say – “Treats talk.” No matter how they are delivered.
What else. Oh. Today is National Handwriting Day. I bet you that kids today won’t know how to write – they start using electronic devices for communication before they even go to school. Does anybody even practice handwriting today? I think it’s probably Handwriting Day because it also happens to be the birthday of John Handcock. I think he started an insurance company. Wait. The Boss said he was the first guy to sign the Declaration of Independence in the US. He had a big fancy signature. That’s why people say “give me your John Handcock.” Or at least they used to. Back 100 years ago when the Warden was a kid.
I was going to try and write my name in the snow with pee, but so far, I can only do the “o.” Doesn’t matter – one whiff and other dogs can read my name just fine.
Here’s a totally silly video of a guy (who obviously has too much time on his hands) who tries to get his dog to write his name. Good thing the dog only has a 3-letter name..
Today also happens to be the birthday of Eduard Manet. The French Impressionist painter. This next article is kinda long for me, and I wouldn’t have included it, but the Boss suggested that some readers might like to know about Manet’s paintings of dogs. Yawn. So here it is. I just looked at the pictures:
The Boss and I went for our run on the golf course yesterday, and all was fine until we were ready to leave the course. It was FREEZING cold and the Warden didn’t want to keep her mittens off for long. So she put down three full poop bags, quickly latched our leashes while simultaneously holding, on her wrist, another bag – with 6 golf balls that yours truly had found in the woods. She put the Boss on a leash that attaches to her waist. She decided to try it with him because he walks nicely. In general.
Anyway, as soon as she got us all leashed, she put her mitts back on , and picked up the poop bags, yours truly decided to roll. And I mean roll. I got myself totally tangled in the leash. So down went the poop bags and off came the mitts again. She wrestled with me to free me from the leash. She freed me, put the mitts back on, picked up the poop bags took three steps at which point the bag with the golf balls broke sending balls rolling on the icy path. It was at that point that some words I didn’t even know she would say, came out of her mouth, like a zombie that needed an exorcism. I sure hope nobody heard her!
Meanwhile, the Boss who was latched to her waist just stood and stared at her. She took the mitts off, put the poop bags down, gathered the balls and shoved them in her pockets, made sure I wasn’t tangled, put her mitts on picked up the poop bags and off we went. It was a glorious walk.
Speaking of which, it’s almost that time!
Have a good one. Peace and paws up. Stay safe.