The Monkey Boy has landed. He’s elderly, a little shaky, not as mobile or flexible, but still as majestic as ever. He still has the command of the room that he’s always had, but is certainly slowing down. At thirteen, he’s pretty old for a German Shorthaired Pointer to be sure, but even though his back legs fail every now and again, he’s still up for chasing a squirrel. For staring at the Stellar’s Jays for an uncomfortably long time.
Sure, I’ve already broken up a couple fights between him and the girly dog who knows for certain that she owns this place, but I think they’ll settle in for the next month. What I’m not sure about is whether I can deal with cooking up old guy food in my largely vegetarian kitchen. Chicken neck hash? Cripes.
I’ll have pictures soon, when my camera arrives from Canon repair.
Your pal,
– bob
P.S. I know you wanted to hear the real big announcement, but I wasn’t allowed to talk about it then. I think I’m clear to discuss it on Monday though…