Yesterday, after a second service sermon (oh, how my pastor would love that alliteration) and a meal of brisket, beans, and cole slaw, we took advantage of the 77 degree weather (which has now–as per the usual winter inconsistency–become 44 and will become 18 this evening–honestly, it’s like living in a BIPOLAR vortex) and took our two dogs to the nearby dog park.
While we were there, we noticed an enormous black monster truck of a dog. It didn’t run; it galloped. Furthermore, it lacked any clear features. It was in essence, a big black furry blur. At first, I thought it might be Obama’s Portuguese Water Dog, Sunny, but it was too large. After consulting with my canophilist friend, Lisa, we determined it was in fact a Jacqueline Kennedy Bouvier Des Flandres. And while neither the Kennedys nor the Obamas possessed such a breed, the Reagans did.
Nancy Reagan aptly wrote that the dog grew to be the “size of a pony.”
They named their dog Lucky, like “Get Lucky,” the song that won both album and record of the year last night at The Grammys. While we’re at it, I wonder how long they’ll continue to use those terms: album and record, especially when an entire generation has never touched an actual vinyl record. Or cassette. And they don’t play CDs. Anway, back to behemoth dog…This was what we saw:
He sniffed around.
He led the chase.
He tried to use his size to bully others, but he got back whatever he gave.
These dogs managed to get him balled up like a circus bear.
He made a grand exit when he finally departed, and a sense of loss filled the park. Five seconds later, the dogs began molesting each other again.
I Don't Get It 