Just when believe you can trust a person’s word you get crushed! I had finally decided my HUMAN is a magnanimous king. I’ll need to reconsider, the Geezer is only a court jester.
He promised he’d take me with him on his speaking trips when he traveled. He speaks with forked tongue. He’s full of it. Hot air. Bull shit. He’s the cat that ate the canary. He’s … He’s … He’s … I was going to say he’s as bad as a politician, but nobody’s that low except for one of those professional liars.
The Geezer had told me, “Sandy, this year I’m going to take you with me when I go on book signing trips and personal appearances every time I’ll be gone for a few days. You love riding in the car. You do fine in the hotels and I can find places that don’t discriminate against canines. You’re on the travel team!”
“Woofee!!!” I said.
Guess what? The first trip of the year and I’m going to be left with the dog sitter. Isn’t that a pile human manure? The conversation went like this:
“Sandy, may I talk to you?” He had that I’m about to steal your favorite toy look plaster all over his ancient wrinkled gnarly face.
I said, “No, I don’t want to buy the Brooklyn Bridge. I don’t care how much of a discount you’re giving me.”
He looked at the floor like (to quote an old southern slang saying), an egg suckin’ dog. “I … well … Mrs. G and I … a … well … and … you know I’m speaking this weekend.” He stammered and turned pink. “I’m going to have to leave you home.”
“What! What!” I ran to the bedroom to try to get under the bed. I hadn’t done that since I was a pup. It didn’t work. There’s a big difference getting a twelve pound puppy body under that frame than my current eighty-five pound carcass. “How could you?” I said as he followed me.
“I didn’t have a choice … I forgot that the first over-nighter is a cruise.” A cruise? A cruise! He saw my now really disappointed expression. “Sandy, they won’t let me take you. It’s rules you know.”
“That’s no excuse, you could sneak me aboard in a suitcase. I won’t let out a whimper.”
The Geezer looked guilty of dog-slaughter. “I don’t have a big enough suitcase.”
I said, “Buy a bigger one.”
“I don’t know where to find one.” His face changed to 2nd degree dogacide. “Besides … think about it. There’s no grass.”
“I can back up to the railing. I’ll just feed the fishes.”
Now his sad schmuck face was guilty in the first degree. “Think of getting seasick. It would be terrible.”
I pouted a few seconds then exclaimed, “Chihuahua SHIT!”
He looked so bad; it was time. I waited for what I knew would come. “I feel so bad Sandy. What can I do to make it up to you?”
I answered, “Shall we say sirloin for two weeks?”
Note: the Geezer is off for a sail and will teach a seminar. Visit his web site, http://www.dlhavlin.com for details.
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