duck-shaped pain

The Bad Neighbors next door have two Labrador Retrievers, one golden and one black. Like the new cars they bring home every month, they paid a lot of money for these dogs. The cars revel in attention, though, whereas the dogs just sort of sit around, ignored.

Two big dogs, and one small pen for the both of them. Maybe 6 feet by 20 feet. Cement floor, chicken-wire fence. I think in the two years I've been home, I've seen these dogs let out of their pen once. Meanwhile, the rest of the family hangs out in the backyard, sitting on their deck, admiring their perfect grass, while the dogs just sit there and stare at them. And bark their fool heads off at anything that moves.

I imagine they're jealous of my dog, who has an huge backyard to run around in, plentiful treats, the freedom to crap anywhere he pleases and often gets fed off of his owners' plates. It doesn't really get much better than that for a dog -- unless we threw him a birthday party or something like that. [1]

Trying out the new backpack this weekend. I'm going to Santa Fe with my mom and my aunt. Native American jewelry will be looked at, margaritas will be drunk. Which also means that there will probably not be any entries until at least Monday or Tuesday, the way it's looking. I am not bringing a computer with me.

If I come back with a broomstick skirt, though, you all have permission to beat me.

[1] Hank the Dog got a birthday party, for example, complete with party hats and cake and other dogs.

previous | next