Tuesday, August 7, 2012

That dog

I once heard that people didn't go to state parks anymore because of the drugs. I know that's where I get mine. Just joking, silly. I have mine delivered by the Domino's guy. Okay, that was a joke too. Don't call Domino's to get your drugs. They won't deliver them. I know. I asked. Let's just stop there. We could do this forever.


Billy Sue and I went to the state park yesterday evening to not get our drugs but rather to explore.



And let me tell ya', that place is covered with nobody. Ain't nobody doing drugs. Billy Sue sniffed the place out.




She loved it. Though I should probably keep her in some kind of air conditioned protective bubble, watching her explore a new place is like seeing a kid open presents on Christmas morning.

Okay, let's figure out what this is. 
Okay, okay. I got that. 
Now this. 
Let's find out what this is. 
Nice. 
Where's the next thing?
Oh, here it is.

Forever and ever until the panting starts.



This is where she is saying, Hey, genius lady who let me get beat up by a cat, this is not a smile. Dude, it's August. Call 911 and tell them to bring the air conditioned bubble.

And this is where Billy Sue wants me to tell you that bulldogs are prone to heat stroke. It rates right up there with drowning for them. Crazy, I know. I always thought dogs invented dog paddling but Billy Sue said she hadn't ever heard of it. She'll sink like a stone. As an owner of the breed you are responsible for keeping them from killing themselves at all times.


Don't do it, Billy Sue.

Think suicidal when you think bulldog.

Which is strange.




'Cause it totally looks like she's smiling.





Today I am grateful for the means and the ability to explore.

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