Thursday, July 22, 2004

Roger the dog gnawed on my arm as Sandy and I chatted. That dog, a white Schnauzer puppy, was so cute. But with a name like Roger, he is bound to be naughty. Seems like everyone I meet named Roger needs to be spanked. Kinda like all men named Scott turn out to be gay. And guys named Homer, they are just plain wonderful, of course. Not that I'm into generalizing. 

When I got home from buying a retro-looking fan the cats swarmed over me, sniff-sniff-sniffing, trying to figure out what the strange dog smell meant. Mama Cat and Puff like to lie on top of me in bed, but even with the retro fan blowing luke warm air at me, it is too hot and I advise them to park their furry behinds somewhere else. How many more months of summer?


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