 - Last login: 3 hours agoTextuous
- Textuous is a 51 year old guy from Near-N-Yondered, Texas, USA.
- Likes 6 pages • 75 fans • Received 47 reviews
- Member since Mar 30, 2006
Antique Cowboy with tarnished six-shooter, rusty spurs, and swaybacked steed. Garage kept, housebroken, and mannerful. Grammatically textuous, with traces of chivalry and dance-floor etiquette. If you read the blog...the least you can do is say hello and leave a smile or sumthin'.
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JUSTIFIABLE DOG-ECIDE
You'd think a cowboy would learn...
Since Dog is...well...a dog, he eats out of a medium-sized stainless steel mixing bowl, out on the porch of the tree house. And since Dog also has a twisted sense of humor, he finds it hilarious to haul that medium-sized stainless steel mixing bowl down the stairs and out into the yard before he eats. And this in turn necessitates that I retrieve said bowl each and every single night at suppertime.
A few weeks ago, having not laughed at this ploy one too many times, I decided it was time to teach an old dog a new trick, and came up with the idea of "Get your bowl." Labs are really smart, right? Right...
Which brings us to last night, where we find our cowboy hero standing at the front door, in a tad less than normal dress, a pot of leftover beef stew in his hand, looking through the window into the far reaches of the outside lights, and seeing the glint of stainless steel far below.
"Dog!!! Get your bowl!!!"
(Dog sits patiently...wagging...eyes filled with evil humor)
"Get your bowl"... What an imbecile...it's hopeless. I balanced the pot on the porch rail, and proceeded, as usual, down the stairs, mumbling various scenarios by which a cowboy might arrange the sudden and unexpected demise of a large black dog.
(Dog watches from above, almost trembling with delight...managing, as dogs do, to keep a straight face)
Glancing over my shoulder, I gave it one last shot..."Get your bowl"...
(wagging...encouraging...daring) What an imbecile...
The grass was damp with chilled dew, and it only took two steps to soak my socks and run me way out on the end of my patience rope. Damn dog..."GET YOUR BOWL"
An hour later, I was sitting on the sofa, bundled warmly into my favorite robe. My neighbor Renee (who repeatedly shows up at the most inopportune times), was sitting on the floor at my feet. She kept hitting the Rewind button on her little video camera, and howling with laughter. I'd seen the stupid video at least two dozen times...and I still couldn't find the humor in it.
On the screen, there's our cowboy hero, in whitey-tighty briefs and grossly mismatched white(ish) socks, daintily tippy-toeing out into the yard. He growls something sinister, then shamelessly drops to this hands and knees, sticks his cowboy butt high into the air, and picks up what looks to be a medium-sized stainless steel mixing bowl with his teeth. Then he looks upwards. "" Gt urrr bwl...wha u mbcile..."
Off camera, we can easily hear the lapping of a canine tongue, and suddenly, a week-old pot of beef stew comes crashing down upon the cowboy, covering him from head to toe in a lumpy, brownish goo. The camera then zooms in on the hero's butt, now adorned with a small carrot and two chunks of potato in a savory sauce.
As she started the clip for the ninety-eleventh time, I glanced at Dog, his head happily resting in her lap. He looked like he was almost ready to pee himself...and I could literally hear him thinking..."what an imbecile".
Meyer
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