![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
constanceIn the couple of years since my badass Fred died, I've readjusted to the pace at which Flannery lives: a snail's pace. Flannery's never been what you'd call a high-energy dog; she prefers to poke carefully at life and take her time over things. Much like me, actually. Speed up the pace on us and we might adapt or we might not, but our preferred speed is, on the road trip of life, maybe second gear.
This weekend my boss finally, finally brought over her wants-to-be-inside-wants-to-be-loved three-year-old Australian Shepherd, who lives at, say, NASCAR speeds, constantly. He's sweet as pie (or indeed beignets from my ex-city, which I've been craving lately), he's smart and learns quickly (I believe we've conquered housebreaking in a single day), but lawks-a-mercy he never stops moving, and if he were a talker, his conversations would go something like this:
Flannery and I, needless to say, are still just spending our time trying to shift out of second gear to accommodate him. But we kind of like him. Or at least I kind of like him. Flannery is sort of undecided. She likes him fine as long as he's not sniffing her butt--but he spends quite a lot of time trying to do just that thing.
He'd be very handsome, if it weren't for the inexpert and enthusiastic grooming he received at the hands of my boss which makes him look pretty mangy. But the hair will grow, and he'll gain some weight (right now he's really thin), and then he'll be quite lovely and I'll take some full-body pictures, and in the meantime, here's a headshot:
Okay, now, I have a question to ask: if you had a dog named Freeway and you absolutely loathed this name but wanted to incorporate that long-e-long-a combination for recognition's sake, what would you call him? I've come up with one or two possibilities, but if you'd like to offer up a possibility, that would be mighty fine of you.
:::
In addition to beignets and chocolate milk from New Orleans, I've also been craving their Classic Soul Hits station. Sometimes all it takes to totally make your day is hearing The Spinners or The Hayes Corporation on commercial radio, and I wish Macon had a station like that.
This weekend my boss finally, finally brought over her wants-to-be-inside-wants-to-be-loved three-year-old Australian Shepherd, who lives at, say, NASCAR speeds, constantly. He's sweet as pie (or indeed beignets from my ex-city, which I've been craving lately), he's smart and learns quickly (I believe we've conquered housebreaking in a single day), but lawks-a-mercy he never stops moving, and if he were a talker, his conversations would go something like this:
"heythereireallylikeyouwhatisthatcologneyou'rewearingareyougoing-
topetmeorwhatwaitwhatisthatovertheremmmmitsmellsfantasticyouwant-
toplayagamemanitisabouttimefordinnermakesureyoudonotforgetthisfloor-
issocoolandsmoothohmygodthisissogreatireallylikeyoudonotforgetiam-
heredonotforgetiamheredonotforgetiamheredonotforgetiamhere!"
Flannery and I, needless to say, are still just spending our time trying to shift out of second gear to accommodate him. But we kind of like him. Or at least I kind of like him. Flannery is sort of undecided. She likes him fine as long as he's not sniffing her butt--but he spends quite a lot of time trying to do just that thing.
He'd be very handsome, if it weren't for the inexpert and enthusiastic grooming he received at the hands of my boss which makes him look pretty mangy. But the hair will grow, and he'll gain some weight (right now he's really thin), and then he'll be quite lovely and I'll take some full-body pictures, and in the meantime, here's a headshot:
Okay, now, I have a question to ask: if you had a dog named Freeway and you absolutely loathed this name but wanted to incorporate that long-e-long-a combination for recognition's sake, what would you call him? I've come up with one or two possibilities, but if you'd like to offer up a possibility, that would be mighty fine of you.
:::
In addition to beignets and chocolate milk from New Orleans, I've also been craving their Classic Soul Hits station. Sometimes all it takes to totally make your day is hearing The Spinners or The Hayes Corporation on commercial radio, and I wish Macon had a station like that.
