Friday, September 08, 2006
Another Ho Hum Day In Piermont, NY
Sept. 8, 2006--By way of "the mother" ( not to be confused with the curse, but some days we just don't like our mothers, you know what I mean?)--the mother took me by car on one of her errands.
Far preferable, mind you, to sitting around indoors.
Summer is almost over, and I have been begging, and I mean begging dear mother to take me out all the time, because I know it's going to be cold soon.
Contrary to what "scientists" have determined, dogs do have a memory for time, and by extension, seasons.
Therefore, I do remember rather vividly my first snowfall, when I snarfed the snow with delight. And some snowfalls that followed, I also rather enjoyed.
But to be truthful, after a while the novelty of snow wears off. Summer is definitely the way to go.
Anyway, we stopped off in Piermont, NY on the way to one of "mother's" appointments, and we encountered two cyclists. I wanted to bite both of them, but I held back, in deference to mother's relationship with the community.
As usual the conversation between them centered on my paternity, which seems to interest human beings more than my personality, which is embued with magical character, playfulness and charm.
I also posess certain etiquette that no human being has had to teach me, which is further proof of my innate intelligence.
For example, I never grab food from the table, even though it is well within my reach. And when left sitting in the car with a bag of groceries holding a month's supply of steak and chicken, I also refrain from tearing into the bags and gobbling it up.
The only time I have ever done anything that even hints at indiscretion is when I ate an entire bar of butter. But one could not think it my fault since by all indications, it was proferred to me. At that time I earned the knickname of "Butterball" but since my appearance is far from that, the name did not stick.
Thus at Piermont I politely accepted half of Mother's corn muffin, and did not even complain when she fed a substantial number of crumbs to her 'darling' birds.
As we left she waved good-bye to the two cyclists (who seemed to have all the time in the world--wonder what they do for a living?), and I was sorry I hadn't taken a bite out of them afterall.