Hey. Hey! This rope ain't gonna tug itself!
A conversation from back in September:
"You need a dog"
"What?"
"You need an old jazz dog"
"I don't need a dog"
"Dude. You have a yard"
"That I don't want filled with dogshit"
"Whatever. You need a dog"
Sighs...
Meet "Deuce". He isn't mine. He belongs to a jazz musician. However, while said musician is doing musical things in NYC this week I will be cataloging our time together for lack of any other blogworthy material. (I've begun hunker-down mode for the winter, and if I bore your teets off with karate/work-out kerfluffles I fear that my 2 readers would bail) This may or may not include some fanTAStic pictures...he very much likes to wear hats. So:
Deuce-bag was dropped off with instructions. He's been fed. Acclimated to the backyard. And snuffled my bed to claim his spot. However, I was abandoned around 11pm when my roommate came home and he had a new hand to pet him. Then I found out he's staked a claim on the loveseat in the TV room. Which means my previously imagined scenario of he and I being BFF's for the next 4 nights...watching "Sex in the City" and eating tacos? Nope.
He does like sweet potato fries. And ice cream. HEP HEP HEP HEPPPP!!!
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