In route from physical therapy today a “well-meaner” pointed out I was down a tennis ball from the back foot of my walker. I shuddered. “it was horrific,” my voice hitched…”a roving pack of goldens…20 maybe 30 of them. Blue bandanas. Spiked collars. Gang tats-poodles draped on harleys. I barely made it out with my shoes.” He didn’t get it. at all. he washt the only one... I had to refrain from “testicle” joke the rest of the afternoon. I mean for H O U R S.
Posted on: Fri, 28 Mar 2014 22:22:37 +0000
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