With all the beautiful winter shots of snow, ice, and the shivering that accompanies that scenario I see on the net, I thought you might like to see what I have to endure daily. Weather is a lot like a cable news program. The way you view it depends on the eye of the beholder. I convinced the Geezer to take a brief boat ride so I could get Mrs. Gator to snap a couple of pics. He asked me to be kind to the folks in cold places when I wrote my descriptions, but didn’t explain how. I guess I’ll figure that out eventually.
The first photo Mrs. G shot was of the beach at the end of our island. A couple of things should be obvious. It’s not real cold here. No snow. No ice. No overshoes. No parkas.
Current weather I'm suffering in
The second is that the humans inhabiting the beach have no idea how to pitch a hammock. How in the world is a canine like me supposed to get in that thing without risking life and limb? Weather report – slightly cloudy, low 58, high 81.
My favorite position
I can’t believe Mrs. G took the picture of me in my favorite position when riding in the boat. I didn’t have my bikini on. The Geezer teases me about my AAAA cup size when I wear it, but I counter that how many human females he knows have ten. At least, my best side was showing. The Geezer says I have a billion dollar bottom, just like Sandra Bullock. I’d prefer a comparison to Lady Gaga, but… I also navigate the boat for the Geezer from that position, pointing the proper course for him.
It was about that time one of my friends soared by. Pelican Pete, checked in with me, saying, “Is the old turd gonna fish today?”
Of course,” I answered, “Do chihuahua’s eat tacos, do gas prices rise, do politicians tell lies?” I pointed to the fishing poles protruding skyward. “He’ll catch enough to eat tonight.
“Good. I’ll stop by the dock and the cleaning bar for a free lunch, later.” Pete did a 360.
I scoffed, “You mean a free-loader lunch.” I knew that comment was a mistake as it left my mouth. Pete turned for a bombing run, lined me up, and wham, incoming. It splatted right beside me. Luckily, I’ve become proficient at dodging pelican poop. The photo below is of Pete just after his deposit. The Geezer wasn’t one bit excited about performing clean-up detail.
My friend in flight
As I predicted, the geezer stopped to fish for a half hour, caught three 15 to 18 inch sea-trout, before heading in.
The last picture is of me watching the Geezer cleaning fish. I love the smell of fresh caught fish, but the divine odor of one that’s been left in the sun for three days is something I can’t resist. I just have to smear it all over my coat. You know, roll, baby, roll! Unfortunately, the Geezer always is a party-pooper, showing up with soap and hose in hand.
I smell fish
Mrs. Gator says this pic shows how much I’m suffering in this February weather as well as letting you, my readers, get a different view of me. Not too bad for a lady approaching middle age, right?
To all you folks in cold weather, gee, I wish I was there. To all you folks like me who live in warm places, isn’t it fun to lie?