Darby the Golden Retriever
Brace yourselves my dear readers. I am about to let you in on a little piece of personal information about an upcoming surgery I am considering. Nothing to make a fuss about I assure you. It’s just something I have been meaning to do for some time now. Before you folks start pulling out your prayer list, incense, and tea leaves, just hear me out.
I am seriously considering having the button taken out of my ars! What is it with children, dogs, and telephones? I no sooner sit down in my nice leather theater seat in front of the TV and BAM, just like clock work Darby the Golden Retriever wanders over and stands there looking at me. You people must know what I am talking about. If you ever had any of these three things I know you know what I am talking about. You sit down and like magic the button gets mashed and there they come, holler, bark, or ring!
Darby has tuned in on whatever frequency my particular butt button is tuned to. Like I said, he comes over then stares at me. I know it’s coming so I just stare back and eventually say WHAT?. This just encourages him and so he growls or grunts whatever is considered just below a growl. I turn away and this triggers more conversation. Bark! Ughhh. Bark, he says, you know I have to poop! Let me out. Ughhhh, Darby, I just let you out five minutes ago! Yea, he says, but you didn’t mash the button so I couldn’t; now I can! LET ME OUT!
I am having it taken out. I am having whatever scan there is to find this cursed button and having it removed. So, pray if you must, burn the little smelly sticks if you must, read the leaves if you must, but don’t worry, I am sure it will be fine.
But Darby, I am gonna miss “So you think you can dance”! Ugh!
Just an observation…