There’s all kind of excitement around our house these days. The Geezer has a new book that’s being released at the end of this month. Mrs. G is busy on the phone, taking and making calls to people and places regarding the novel. I worry that the old boy is so busy he’ll strip a gear; he’s racing around like a cat stuck in room with twenty mice and the poor feline can’t decide which to catch first. He’s on the phone with his editor, then he races to the computer, he pounds on the keyboard, then it’s back to the publisher, you get the drift.
I really shouldn’t give a Russian rat’s rump and wouldn’t if it didn’t interfere with some of the things I like to do. Mrs. G doesn’t fawn over me as much as usual, but I can give her my “poor dejected dog” look and she’ll stop what she’s doing and make over me. The Geezer cuts our morning walks short, spends a woefully short time playing the games I train him in and is less likely to sneak a hot dog out of the refrig for me. I can live with these things. But, the lack of computer access to write to you on my blog, upsets my stomach like a chocolate, jalapeno and dill pickle pie.
Have you ever seen a picture of a computer hog? This is what one looks like!
Trying to get to the computer to write my blog makes arranging a marriage between a Rabbi’s daughter and the son of a member of the Muslim Brotherhood a simple task. First, the Geezer suffers from a bad case of fattassia. (pronounced: fat – tass – ia) Trying to nudge his more than ample carcass from the over-burden office chair is mission impossible. I’ve tried the normal tricks to dislodge his butt from in front of the console: barking at the door…faking like I have to go out, dropping my tennis ball at his feet indicating I want to play, going to the window and whimpering like I do when the neighbor’s twenty-five-year-old daughter is sunbathing au natural (believe me, this usually works), but, so far…….
I even tried something new and inventive. The Geezer hates the political wrangling that’s on TV now; it makes him mad. Using my superior canine logic and applying that to the fact he normally races to the TV to turn it off if such garbage appears– that’s no matter what he’s engaged in (I didn’t know it was possible to use toilet paper that fast.)– I skillfully DVR’d several alternating TV ads featuring Obama and Romney. When I played them, he didn’t budge from the seat. He simply put in earplugs, vomited in the waste paper can and cussed a lot.
What can a poor canine do when faced with removing a massive ass from its resting place? I would try dynamite, but the risk of damaging the computer would be too great. Besides my compassionate side would bar this action, though the old boy could use forty or fifty pounds blown away.
If you’re wondering how I got this opportunity to write to you, let me say two words – “Exlax pie.” Oops! He’s coming back. Time for me to go do some more baking.