Ok, and it didn't take a million years, only 61...and thank you, Miss West.
Having a newborn and a three-year-old at age 61 gives new meaning to "Retired" as in "tired again." However, the laughs keep coming. My hands are full as my friends say, but they are full of laughter and joy and even fuller because the newborn is ten and the three-year-old is thirteen. email@example.com
Now I would be the last to burst somebody’s NCID icicle, but I think they may be suffering from a little brain frostbite. Dogs have been communicating that information for hundreds of years and without wearing a doggie head set. If they are chewing on your hand, your shoes, pawing at the refrigerator door, they are hungry. If they are stretched out in front of the fireplace, draped across the door steps, eyes closed, they are tired or dead. Not too hard to tell which it is. Suspicious puddles, wet spots on the carpet, or crossed legs with severe whimpering are a dead give-away that there is a doggie bladder in distress. That is also an indication that you have a toddler or senior citizen in the house.
Now I am not saying Roy Roger’s dog Bullet or RinTinTin wouldn’t have something worthwhile to say if they have been on the trail of the bad guys. And maybe it would be useful to the CIA if super spy lap-dogs could relay sensitive information, but they would need some really smart dogs.
Gypsy: Does my tail make my butt look big?
Maybe the Nordic Society for Invention and Discovery should focus their efforts on reading the brain patterns of our politicians; that's assuming, of course, they have brains. The microcomputer could put their thoughts into categories: What I am supposed to think, what I really think, what I was told to think and I have no thoughts.
In the meantime, “Gypsy, Rover, keep your noses out of other doggies' business and I don’t care what you say, no Alpo. It’s leftovers or go catch a rabbit.”