Our dog Lucy really has had nothing good to say about George Bush. And now that the vice president has been found hiding behind a pair of bird dogs, she has all but thrown up her paws and made for the back yard.
It was a mistake, I know, to finally succumb to her repeated requests to hog the set for two whole nights while she salivated over the dog-cake on display at the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show (we call it her Super Howl). Thank God that's over. It's like porn for dogs. The good thing is that this happens only twice a year and is really the only show Lucy marks on the calendar. She's like those supposed tennis freaks who only watch the Grand Slam events. It could be that she feels obligated to watch, because I happen to know that she harbors a bit of resentment.
What's more, she's getting just a little tired of the damn terriers always winning. Personally, she has a thing for the Scottish Deerhound, but I tell her she's barking up the wrong tree. It would never work. She only weighs 11 pounds. Still, we had gone out for just a bit while she watched the Hound Group and when we got back, there she was lying on her back smoking a Marlboro Light. I tell Sherry that it's a puppy love but she's worried.
About the winner, Lucy doesn't go for eggheads, preferring the strong-silent type, although she once dated a Puli, but they only went to places where they wouldn't be seen by her friends. And she was getting a little tired of all the Rasta music. She has asked the idog of her kennel to issue a catwa against Terriers, objecting in the strongest manner to the cultural imperialism of that dominant breed. Who do they think they are, anyway?
I finally got Lucy to turn the TV off after the awarding of the trophy. I couldn't get her to shut up. She was bitching that Rufus (even though she really, really dislikes him) was not asked to go to Disney World like all the other big dogs. So here we are now, surfing through the morning shows looking for the mutt who won last night. There is already some controversy that maybe the officiating was substandard, but I think it's all just sour kibbles. I'm going to take her for a walk and see if a few squirrels will distract her. I have work to do.
Why am I always the last to know? You didn't tell me Lucy dated a Puli. That tart.
Posted by: Your Kid | February 15, 2006 at 08:30 AM
I was only trying to protect you. A mistake, I know. But hey, I'm not perfect.
Posted by: Daniel | February 15, 2006 at 08:32 AM