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September 15, 2011

gerretSwirlin' on the Beach

by Gerret, file under: About Me | Doggedly dogging the dogs | My Pack


Well, The Gerret learned two things last weekend. First, I never want to do anything that requires a life jacket, and second, I never want to do anything that requires a parachute.

And that's not weird.

I Googled me and sure enough it said I was a land mammal, emphasis on the "land." That's "LAND" mammal. It doesn't say anything about water and nothing about air except when it comes to drinking and breathing which I can do just fine with all four feet resting on dirt.

You see, Stump and Tweet tricked me and Maggie into the car and hauled us off to a couple of places called Nags Head and Kitty Hawk. What a bummer. One place was all about drowning, and the other was about jumping up and not coming down. This isn't what dogs are paid to do.

There we met up with Irene, Girlfriend, Sassie, Andage, Chap and Bodee.

Andage was all about surfing, which is apparently some variation on taking a big flat stick out into the world's largest water bowl, jumping on top of it for a while and then falling over. If I did that they'd take me to the vet.


We did a lot of this at sunrise for obvious reasons. Who'd want to get caught trying to find a gnarly tubular something-or-other in a giant, over-seasoned water bowl? Plus Stump and Tweet kept picking up our turds and putting 'em in plastic bags. Gross! What are they saving 'em for, Christmas? How weird is that? And they complain about dog breath.


So on the left that's Maggie at sunrise, then Bodee with Girlfriend and Maggie watching Andage with his giant flat stick, and finally The Gerret trying to educate Maggie about riptides.

Speaking of which, Maggie drank the water. Yours truly did not. Now she's cross-eyed. What a putz. With her weight problem she should be avoiding salt big time.


This is me and Maggie with our new housemate Irene. She showed up at our place right around the same time as Hurricane Irene, so we all call her Irene. Stump says she's a foster dog. I don't know who the Fosters are, but I wish they'd pick up their dog because she's cramping my style. You do the math. Pork chop leftovers divided by two dogs vs. pork chop leftovers divided by three dogs. I rest my case.


The problem is Stump and Tweet and Andage can't say enough good things about Irene, so if you really care about The Gerret you'll adopt this dog NOW. Or I'm gonna start sending out resumes.


As for Kitty Hawk, that was even weirder. People sitting on sticks and jumping into the air and not coming down in a timely manner. Sheesh. I know you're with me on this one. Plus it isn't even in Kitty Hawk, it's in Kill Devil Hills. And what is a kitty hawk anyway? Could we get a few around our place? We got kitties.


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