Storms, an essay by me. Storms come and go, but sometimes they cause my side gate to open as if by magic. Storms can also turn a dog crazy, and Charlie is no exception. Storms are therefore responsible for me going crazy driving around the streets looking for the mutt, calling the pound etc etc. The relief when I get the call from the pound telling me where his lordship is holed up is palpable. The discomfort when I get there and talk to the Ranger and find that his lordship has just settled a territorial dispute with a neighbourhood cat by eating it is just as palpable, finding out that the dispute took place in front of the family who owned the feline, priceless, and I really do mean priceless. Frantic negotiations with the Ranger ensue and Charles P Dog is returned to the bosom of his family, covered in blood and looking a little smug I must say. I think I can assert that today was a terrible day. I am blaming the storm. I hate them now. The end.
Posted on: Mon, 18 Aug 2014 10:53:34 +0000
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