Sunday, November 17, 2013
Chet Baker has a bassetball. It's got no air in it no more. He done punctured it a long time ago.
He hauls it around and shakes it and chews it, so it is still doing its duty as a toy.
The basic tenet of most Boston terrier games is Keepaway. I have this, you don't.
Just try to get it from me.
Please. Try. And you will pull back a stump.
This is a photo of me rooing. You roo through closed lips. It's a rolling yodel, not a bark. You roo when someone is trying to get your toy from you. Or when you want them to try.
Sometimes nobody plays with you at all. They need to come try to get something away from you.
But they are too busy looking at the pear tree in the afternoon sun. Which is loaded with very smelly pears and the deer eat them and I chase them.
And then sometimes the people stop looking at the leaves, pick me up and kiss me in that special light, and that is good.
She pays so much attention to me that sometimes I wonder if Phoebe is going to try to take me to college with her when she leaves next fall. I would be willing to try it, if she was in her room a lot or would take me to classes and the cafeteria. I would like that. I would make quite a dorm mascot. Or even a college mascot. Neither of us has asked Mether what she thinks of the idea yet.
That could be a sticking point.