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Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Pet bowling

I'm beginning to suspect that the aging process is forcing the obligatory "mellowing out" thingie upon me.

Case in point: Wifey's 5-pound "dog."

There was a time (if my brother was still alive, he would attest to this), there was a time when I would have stuffed this bulked-up Ewok into a hamster ball and rolled for plastic bowling pins. Uh, just the depraved thought of such an awful thing would lead one to believe that the animal-in-a-hamster-ball bowling event is something that I am fully capable of when bored and out of beer, wine and after shave. I plead the 5th.

In any event, , fu>k off you P.E.T.A. bed-wetters. Go and protest outside a circus for hours on end and see if anybody gives a flying funk.

Anyway, Wifey doesn't understand why I chortled and choked after the big brown step-van delivered the new "puppy" coat just in from some far-flung corner of Tibet.

 Yeah, that's my pathetic life these days. Making sure Lala, the Ewok/Hamster mix is comfortable.

God, what I wouldn't give for just one more drunk and disorderly customer after the bars had closed.

Whatever, I'm gonna go drool on myself for a spell.


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