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Thursday, April 14, 2005
The Biker Chickhuahua
We finally visited Pet Smart in search of clothing for Pork Chop. The selection was not great, just a few faux bowling shirts, etc. I settled on a chihuahua-sized Harley Davidson biker jacket.
"WHY?" you ask.
"Well," I answer, "because that's all they had which fit her. Also, it looks funny. Plus, she likes it."
Today, a rainy one, was the kind of weather when native Virginians wear parkas and shiver, acting as if they faced Alaskan winter. I, of course, thought it was a pretty nice day and did not wear a jacket of any kind. Pork Chop, a frequent shiverer, welcomed the warm Harley duds. So it's all good.
After our shopping expedition during which I also bought a couple of Grandma rocking chairs for on the porch, Pork Chop went home with Lydia and the kids. I had to attend mediation class again, and Porky McChopchop does not appreciate being left alone for four and one half hours.
After class tonight, I stopped at the Netzer domicile to pick up my mutt. Dog and kids were rolling and frolicking on the bed in Sadie's room, kids in their pajamas. Oh, the shrieking and laughing. The baby chased Porky who burrowed under the covers. Happy, happy, joy, joy.
I broke up the party and dragged the D.O.G. home to her quiet, childless home on 38th Street. She has made a nest in an afghan on the sofa and is asleep after her hectic day of shopping and playing.
Lydia's working on a rap re. Pork Chop. So far it goes like this;
"Yo, yo, yo,
I'm Porky McC.,
And I'm a D.O.G."
OK, that's not a long enough rap, but every masterpiece begins somewhere.
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