Sorry for the no-show yesterday. Worked late. Had nothin’. Phoned it in.
I have little more today, but I do have a question about dog psychology, for you dog psychologists. I mentioned a while back that Wendy had become a lap dog with the onset of cool weather. Now I’m not so sure it’s got anything to do with the weather. She wants to be in physical contact with me for amazingly long periods. If I’m sitting on a chaise, she wants to lie on, not next to, my legs. Couch, ditto. The other day I pushed her off — I’ve got a lame leg, after all — and she smushed up next to me and laid a paw where she had been lying.
I’ve never had a dog who seemed to need so much physical contact. Spriggy didn’t put up with much more than normal petting and belly-scratching. I don’t know if it’s a remnant of her shelter life, or what. It’s sort of nice, but sometimes it’s like having a clingy toddler.
Terriers are supposed to be independent. I’m a little concerned, as in a few weeks or months Bridge will be opening a Detroit office and I’ll be working there more often. I don’t want to come home to a vibrating, freaked-out dog.
Which is one reason ads for the Thundershirt keep turning up in my web perambulations.
And aren’t you sorry you dropped by?
I’ve come to think the prefix “ultra” never indicates something good. Today, “ultra-traditionalist Catholics” from the Society of Saint Pius X disrupted an interfaith ceremony observing Kristallnacht, at a cathedral in Buenos Aires. Which I’m mentioning just because. Even though you know how much I love Catholic rad trads.
With my achy knee and otherwise aging joints, I can only look upon this video of the Detroit Jit and think, sadly, oh, but this ship has sailed. Probably just as well.
Modern Farmer brings you the pie chart of pies. No more apple for you. And they are so, so wrong about cherry.
Again, a short effort, and I am off to bed. Cut way back on the ibuprofen this week and my gut feels better, but I also have Martin Cruz Smith to keep me warm, so back to “Tatiana.”