The Long and Short of It

As promised I am going to share my leisure class lifestyle with all of you. Even though I am a working breed, hot summer is referred to by the humans a "the dog days". I cannot fight the system. This is not sharing in the liberal sense, but bragging/sharing, which is a conservative strong point. "I've got my summer vacation at a private beach, and you do not." That is what I mean by sharing. Up yours. I am better than you.

Miss Worry Wart Manager snapped this candid pic of yours truly enjoying a dip in the waves. The beach is very big, and it takes a long time for me to walk to the water. Also, it was hot. I was having fun.

Then the kill joy says, "I think the lake is too warm. We haven't had that many days of 90 plus temperatures."

"This porridge is too hot. This porridge is too cold." I would call her Goldilocks, except she dyes her hair red. I think it is called auburn. I know all her secrets.

This is just like all the liberals. They want to spoil your fun.

I will be going back for the carp roll next week. We put the windows down instead of turning on the A/C anyway. Cheap. So what if she thinks I smell.

As everyone who is anyone knows, August is when the right people and dogs summer at the shore. I own a couple of beaches by a very big lake. No one gets onto one of my beaches unless they have permission. I do not care who they are. This goes for birds, too.

Once management gets going on our house we are fixing up, then we can go to survey my property every day. She had to hire a roofer, and she is going to hire a tree remover. Just so they don’t mess with my porch. They do not want her around giving out orders, but she is a control freak. That is why she has to go to the lake every day. Otherwise the workers might beat her up. I have enough problems without her limping around.

One of my favorite sights at the beach is dead carp. If they smell bad enough, then you can roll in them. It is fun. All of your friends will know that you have been to the beach – and they have not. It is a snob thing.

Me. They were out of Snickers bars.

I would have posted this on time, but they do not let dogs into Panera Bread which is where the Boss takes the laptop, so I had to hitch a ride to the library where they think I am a dwarf, so I could take care of some busimess and pause to wish you-know-who a belated 7 and 4/7 (53 divided by 7) birthday.

She has been crabby lately, which is her sign anyway, so I guess we shouldn't be surprised. Crab, crab, crab. "Do you want to go for a ride in the car or not?" "Arthur, get over here. Stop eating the cat food." "Come on, dammit. I'm in a hurry."

Personally I think she should go on a long vacation with me along, of course. I want a bigger car, though. No Clarence or his stupid cat carrier. A/C on full blast. She won't buy a new car, though. She is too cheap.

I suppose I could link to her pathetic little blog as a birthday present. Send some traffic her way. I will have to think about it.

They say it is not polite to say, “I told you so.”

But I am a conservative, so I do not care about being polite. It is not in my value system. I do not have any values. I am supposed to say that I have family values, though. It is in the Conservatives Handbook. If you talk about your family a lot, no one will notice that you are stealing their wallet or throwing them out of their house.

I knew that adopting an immigrant cat was a bad move. The cash flows out the door with no return on the investment. It depletes resources. It drains my patience. And, after all, who is the blog star in this little group?

We bought a brand new lap top one week before I snapped this incriminating picture of Clarence sitting on the coffee table in our super luxury “suite” at Ray’s Motel. He is watching a DVD while sitting in front of the fan. I am so glad we spent hundreds of dollars so that Clarence could have better entertainment. I am so thrilled.

If you listen to Rush Limbaugh you know that he talks about lazy do-nothings. I have listened to Rush one or two times. That is all it takes. You learn everything he has to say. Then you can go around repeating it to your friends and in the grocery store line, and you can get a bumper sticker that says, “Dittohead”.

This is a “nice” cat? How about a shiftless cat? A negative net value cat?

Clarence had his “tassels” trimmed yesterday. You know what that means. Now we have an expensive eunuch. Way to go, Miss Manager! Maybe we should buy some more Lucent Technologies stock next.

I haven't written a food column lately. Well, unless you count my column on mega M&M's, which was a life style editorial about middle aged bipeds who think that 55% bigger beige M&M's will make them cool again. As if.

Today I am going to blog about my new diet. My vet says I have allergies, so he gave management a piece of paper that says I have to eat boiled chicken and rice. I love Chinese takeout, which always has rice. Fried chicken is excellent, but I do not know about this boiled chicken business. At least he did not say I was too fat.

I think he gave her the piece of paper, because the bill was very expensive, and he wanted her to think that she was getting her money's worth. Also, even though he did not realize that I am a famous blog artist, he could see that I am a pedigree dog with a special certificate from my breeder in Sycamore. It costs more to keep us. Face it.

Poor management is still complaining about her wrist. I think she should marry the hot dog salesman and get in on his insurance and quit talking about her aches and pains. Why she can't figure this out is beyond me.

You cannot have hot dogs on my bland diet. Hot dogs can be bland if you do not put peppers and onions on them. I think this vet was over reacting. I am allergic to cats. Not steak. Cats.

He said that Clarence was a nice cat. "That's a nice cat." Then management was all talkative about how he purrs all the time and knows his name. People spend time discussing whether some idiot cat knows his name or not. That makes him "nice"?

I think this vet knows about as much about diets as he knows about the real Clarence.

Zero.

God.

This is where we are staying. It says that the rooms are "clean and affordable". Plus you get a warm refrigerator, Harley guys racing through the parking lot and scent of ashtray for aroma therapy. This is supposed to be better than Miss Manager dealing with a house. It is proof that she is early Alzheimer's, I swear.

Right now she is cleaning a Weber grill so that we can have steak on a skewer for supper. There is a short, strange biped out there with her asking if she would like some company "later". I know what that means. He wants some meat.

You should see our car. It looks like the truck that the Beverly Hillbillies drove to Californy. We have the freeloading Clarence with us, his cat carrier, a cooler, my dish and water bowl, of course, clothes and pillows, our new laptop computer, shovels for the garden and my special area rug for receiving fan club members and publishing house editors. Also a suitcase. And shopping bags from a place called T.J. Maxx. (I do not think that you-know-who needs any new clothes, but who ever asks me anything around here?)

She paid for us to stay here for one week. Why nor just move in permanently? We could meet every humanoid weirdo that way, not just one weekend's worth. The prime example referred to above said, "What kind of a dog is that?" See what I mean? Jethro Clampet all the way.

What kind of a dog is that? I will tell him. He probably has flames tattooed to his ankles like he is on fire or something. I will herd him into the lake to put out the flames. Ha ha. I bet you that he does not even know what a blog is, let alone a blogging dog. Why are we here? Anyone?

People come to Ray's in the summer because it is by the lake, and they think that they will get to wade and splash, but they do not tell you where it says that the rooms are "clean and affordable" that the beach is all eroded and the only way you can get to the lake is if you jump off a cliff. That is false and misleading.

Maybe I can open up a suntan lotion stand.