It came home today …
The Six Million Dollar Hound, I mean. The Dreamboat picked him up from the airport and brought him home. Apparently, he’s wearing a bucket on his head and half of his body’s been shaved. I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him.
He’s supposed to be kept quiet, you see. No excitement. He’s not allowed to move around. We have to keep him locked in the laundry for the next two weeks. He’s only allowed out to go to the toilet and even then he has to be taken out on a lead.
If he sees me, he’ll go ballistic so I’ve resisted all temptation to go into the laundry. He knows I’m home, though. He’s crying and barking and trying to get out.
I feel like Mr Rochester from Jane Eyre … with a frantic canine locked up, instead of a mad wife.
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3 comments
awwww he luffs you, he reaaallly luffs you
I see a name change coming up
Whats Maori for Lucky?
K: that reminds me of the end of the song “Cuban Pete” performed by Jim Carrey in “The Mask”. Please tell me that was what you were thinking of too. Otherwise, I’ll have be afraid at just how bloody obscure my references can be …
Bolix: “Waimarie”, my friend. Something of a mouthful for a plain little pooch like ours.
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