Oh no. Has Steinbech's ('I just wanna pet the rabbit, George') gone by the wayside?!
Well, in your next fleeting moments of dead space (today, tomorrow, next week), let’s see what you think of my attempts at humor.
I do know that there’s a range, a chasm, that separates what the new generation sees as
funny vs what will compel fossils to garner a chuckle.
I do have a few dozen pages of normal life experiences, some with quadrupeds, such as the Tibetan Terror that darn near cured me of furry friends;
A business associate and I were discussing international facilities via Email…..
‘My father told me a story about when he was in a nice hotel in Fez, Morocco. No TP, just a guy in the floor below with a whisk broom’
‘Well Bruce, that whisk broom comment inspired me to cleanse my keyboard with atomized coffee propelled from my lungs.'
'While wandering in thought about whisk brooms, our last dog came to mind.
I’m a dog lover.
Beagles, labs, most any breed, even the hybrid wolf my son had in Alaska was a joy….but it’s playful nipping, as pups generally do, would most times leave your hand in shreds…practice I guess. What a tiger...loved his spirit.
But the whisk broom comment sent me directly to our last dog-like entity from Lucifer…a Tibetan Terrier.
Total block head, smart, really smart, just not put to good use.
He saved his dumps for my den.
Take him out and he’d wait you out.
Keep him out and he’d still save it up.
Once back in the door, he’d head straight up the stairs to my den.
One time I stepped out to get the mail and caught him in my peripheral vision headin’ up the stairs ….I stood there…he stood there….I motioned out the door…he took two stairs…then I shamed him and took him with me outside….then we both went back in….me to the kitchen…him to the den.
My only recourse was to feed him just dry dog food…found a brand that created little bricket turds and a bit of dust…….bought two 50 lb bags, whisk broom and dust pan were additions to my den….and a new, sweepable rug.'
'Oh, when locked out, he developed a penchant for dumpster diving, and regularly brought home the neighbor’s filled pampers…..pealed ‘em back and dined on ‘em like a baked potato…..
I hoped the neighbor would pick him off, but (as stated) he was smart.
Notice the referral is in the past tense…
Not getting a dog for awhile…..I’m not fit for it until my PTSD has abated some.'
