It sometimes seems like Chigger is the only one around here who can stay focused. And these days she's verging on seriously grim. Today she wrote "35 human days until Barney vacates the Casa Blanca" in her dog food and then gave out one of those silent-but-deadly farts that only a dog who's been practicing for thirteen-and-a-half years can master. (It's a skill that The Gerret can only aspire to one day.) Yesterday she wrote "36 human days..." and the day before that it was "37 human days..." and on and on, like some sort of dog-autistic obsession.
So I says to her in a light-hearted fashion so as to brighten the surrounding atmosphere in which we both participated, "Hey Chigger, I didn't know you spoke Spanish."
Slowly she turned, step-by-step, inch-by-inch she approached me. She focused her one good eye on me in steely fashion, then squinted and coldly replied in a voice just barely louder than a whisper, "Don't get smug with me you little cat-turd eatin' mutt. I've lived through nearly 56 dog years of Barney this and Barney that. It's Barney-cams every Christmas and Barney-in-the-Rose-Garden every summer. Meanwhile football-player-induced dog-on-dog violence goes unchecked, foreign dog food is poisoning us, Presidential candidates are driving around with dogs on the roofs of their cars and a beagle wins the Westchester Dog Show. You hear me, a BEAGLE! Our entire species has become a laughing stock. It will take generations to undo the damage."
With that she pointed me to the following video and puked.
First I cleaned up the puke, a bold and boisterous gumbo of squirrel guts and roadside french fries with the delicate aftertaste of some kind of wild animal poop I just couldn't quite but my finger on. Then I watched the video.
(*"What You See Is What They Want You To See" from "Chiggerpedia")