First I just was going to write about my runaway dog - Charlie the miniature dachshund dug out under the fence today. Beautiful day outside - I was loading the tailgate trailer, the other dogs were out enjoying the sunshine. Everyone seemed happy and I realized I had to get something done online before a time deadline so I went into my office. I few minutes later my assistant came in and ask if I had Charlie. I did not. We looked around the house for him - sometimes he's behind the couch. Like Jesus. (It's a magnet: I found Jesus. He was behind the couch.) I've really been easy on you people lately explaining all my references.
Anyway, The Fabulous Heatie and I headed out to look for the little bastard. I walked around the street and then around the block - then I realized I had left my phone on my desk and I had to go to the bathroom so I went home. Still no Charlie. I went in to use the bathroom and grab my phone and texted a couple of people that live close to see if they wanted to join the search party. As I was headed back toward the kitchen Sammie the parrot said "Fuck Charlie". My sentiments exactly Sammie. She swears at Chuck a lot. He's the worst behaved pet in the herd so she is often heard saying "fuckin' Charlie". I don't know where she gets this shit.
Jane (my mother - and yes, some of my writing is likely quite embarrassing for her. A bunch of went to the movie Sausage Party - it seemed to be her breaking point - food porn.) said she was on here way, Heatie took off in her car and I took off on foot again. Within a little while my mother texted to say that she had pulled up and Charlie was walking around the front yard, she called him, he came over, she picked him up and took him inside. She said he was quite thirsty.
This is unusual for many reasons. Number one my mother does not like pets. Well, maybe that's the only reason. When mom first texted to say she had him, within 10 seconds of arriving on the scene I thought she was kidding. She could be called a pet whisperer but it's generally in the hopes that she is giving them last rights. I owned a business once where we did errands for people, got them organized, etc. One elderly lady called to see if we could take her sick tiny dog to the vet, mom was available to go - but once she had the dog in her car she called me and said the dog really sounded odd, and it should probably just be put down. I told her we could not do that. The dog was cared for, and returned to its owner unharmed. And Jane really does make an attempt to help with our pets.
Between my sister and I we have a total of: 5 dogs, 1 cat, 1 parrot, 5 rabbits, 3 peacocks, 1 pig, 2 goats, tons of chickens and ducks and guinea hens and a bunch of koi. Odd that we come from someone that thinks a ceramic dog is god's plenty in the pet department. My sister was surprised that Jane did not use the opportunity to run Chuck over - she was kidding. But it was funny. Jane has also been overheard telling our pets to try to have a little personal dignity, so far those talks have gone unheeded. My sister and I seem to attract pets that are not quite right - it's hard to explain, but literally, none of them really have any personal dignity - well Sammie the parrot might.
How does this tie into grammar you are asking as I ramble on...........well I wanted to add an illustration or funny cartoon about a runaway dog - so I found one by e-cards - and it has the word "your" instead of the correct "you're". How hard is this to figure out...............your - belongs to you.........you're..........you are..............damn it people - it's not that hard! So you waited all that time - and that was all you got! Suckers!
Love,
The Gym Bytch