It is my responsibility to alert the owners of bugs in the yard. It is also my responsibility to alert the owners of other dogs alerting their owners of bugs in the yard. It is my responsibility to announce when the bell of the gate next door is rung, and to do it in such a way that the owners think it is their own bell. Their own bell does not work. It is my responsibility to ward off the trashtruck from its inevitable rise to power as it roars up the mountain, setting off car alarms. This is a desperate endeavor, and one in which I am joined by my peers. It is my responsibility to crawl under the house in the early dawn and alert the owners to my whereabouts beneath their bedroom. And now I have the added responsibility of keeping up this blog and of monitering the comments of the female, who is singularly trivial. It is a heavy burden. And it makes me sleepy. I do not slack in my efforts. And I am not unrewarded. The female is getting skittish, and developing dark circles under her eyes. If it were not for me, she might be full of health, unaware of the complex of dangers besetting her. For instance, the other day two men began poking around at our gate door. I have stated that our bell does not work. This makes it unnecessary for me to alert the owners when someone is ringing it. I did not recognize these men, but they obviously knew what they were doing. They proceeded to insert a tangible device and to pick the lock and come in. Once they were in I saw no need to alert the owners of their presence. I did not recognize them, and they did not ring the bell. There are far too many insects in the yard to bother the female with strange men. These men motivated themselves over the yard in a straight line toward the dwelling and the first thing the owners knew about them was an eruption of loud knocking on their door. I almost barked then. But the male appeared, and I wagged my tail instead. That night I was patrolling the neighboring wall and reporting the results to the owners, when the male came out and smacked me. I tried to lick his hand, but he was implacable. I concluded that he must have been drinking, and sulked the rest of the night. The female arose the next morning without dark circles. She smiled at me. I concluded that she must have been drinking. This is the kind of devastation that happens when people drink. It tears homes apart, and leads men to smack innocent animals. Moreover it leads women to smile foolishly at them. The violence of the male is disgusting, but the ignorance of the female is tragic. Little did she know how many bugs had passed that way in the darkness, or where I was at 3 AM.
This is ridiculous. We were not drinking. Zack, remember who invited you to be on this blog.
[edited by HZ at 1:09 pm] You have my pity. Remember the comment feature.
[edited by Zack at 1:12 pm]
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Where are the people of Iceland now?